


Helpless When the Sky Explodes

by enigma731, invisibledaemon



Category: The Invisible Library - Genevieve Cogman
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, series of related oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27951743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigma731/pseuds/enigma731, https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisibledaemon/pseuds/invisibledaemon
Summary: Irene was reminded suddenly of observing him as they’d escaped the prison in Venice, the way he’d seemed diminished, the confidence that so defined him badly shaken. That wasn't quite how he looked now -- it was somehow both better and worse. He was working so hard to keep up appearances that he almost managed to pull it off. But she knew him well enough to see the cracks in the façade, to see how utterly exhausted he was by it, and that was a stunningly intimate thing to realize.Or: Exploring the ways they heal and grow between books
Relationships: Irene/Kai (The Invisible Library)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 17





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to our newest joint project!! This is going to be a series of oneshots to do what it says in the tin: explore the ways Irene and Kai learn to heal and comfort each other and grow together in the parts we don't get to see. 
> 
> This one takes place after book 2!

It was both dark out and raining when Irene finally made her way out of the British Library and into the street. Just a few months ago, she would have been accustomed to the slight disorientation that always came with leaving the Library proper and having to reacclimate to a world where time actually passed in a meaningful way. She had even liked that sensation once upon a time, had found it refreshing. But now all she felt was irritation that she’d been waylaid long enough to lose touch with that aspect of her home, not to mention worried that time passing here meant the possibility of _things happening_ while she wasn’t present. 

Glancing at a newspaper stand from the window of her cab, she estimated that she’d been gone for at least two -- possibly three -- days by this alternate’s time. The trouble was that she hadn’t been completely certain of the date here when she last went _into_ the Library. That uncertainty rankled, as did the weather. It practically felt like the world was trying to remind her that she was officially on probation, to rub her nose in it. 

By the time she’d made it to the door of their lodgings, she was both seething internally and shivering from the damp. That made it take longer than usual to grope for her key, and she’d only just managed to get it out when the door opened from the other side, leaving her face to face with Li Ming.

The level of sheer panic she felt at seeing Li Ming there had its equal only in the flood of relief she felt upon seeing Kai standing just behind him. Her fear that something must have happened to him while she was gone, that that was the only reason Li Ming would be opening the door to their lodgings, completely melted away. 

The desire to run up to him and hug him was extremely strong, and it took considerable self-control for her to tamp down on her reaction in front of Li Ming. She didn’t want to give him the idea that she and Kai were anything more than mentor and student -- which they _weren’t_! But launching herself at him and wrapping her arms around him might have given the wrong impression. 

“Good evening, Miss Winters,” Li Ming said politely, stepping aside so that she could get out of the rain. 

She echoed his greeting as she came inside, then repeated it to Kai. She could see the same struggle she was feeling in his face. He was an expert at holding himself back, but there was a curl of his fist and a fire in his eyes that she could see even from the doorway. 

She forced herself to tear her eyes away from him for long enough to hang up her damp coat and hat, still acutely conscious of Li Ming’s gaze on her, his presence in the room which in that moment felt somehow more commanding than Kai’s. Li Ming was older, she knew, and much more experienced, but he wasn’t of the royal blood. She had no idea what that might mean about their relative strengths, and she hoped she’d never have the opportunity to find out.

“Have you been here long?” she asked, partly to ascertain whether anything significant had happened in her absence and also because she was hoping for an opening to politely suggest that he leave. 

“I am here under the orders of my lord Ao Shun,” said Li Ming, his tone so even as to be entirely inscrutable, “to ensure that the prince is protected. And preferably to convince him to move to more...appropriate lodgings.”

“Which I have already assured him is not going to happen,” said Kai, speaking up for the first time. He sounded steadier than he looked, but that wasn’t terribly surprising. 

“I assure you that these lodgings are perfectly safe,” Irene told Li Ming, though she was aware that probably wasn’t the chief complaint about them. As if to prove her right, Li Ming glanced at the hallway around them; though his expression didn’t change, the disapproval was palpable. Choosing to ignore that, she continued, “And I’m here now. I will take my duty as Kai’s mentor very seriously and keep him protected.” 

She hoped that was the right thing to say. She was so damned exhausted, she didn’t have the energy for political talk at the moment. Thankfully, Kai didn’t look the least bit offended at the idea that he needed protecting, nor questioning of her ability to do so, despite the fact that she’d failed so horribly before. He seemed to just take it as fact that she would be able. 

“I am grateful for your assistance,” he said to Li Ming, in a tone that spoke of finality. “And my lord uncle’s.” Perhaps he sensed that she was trying to subtly hint to Li Ming to please, please leave without actually saying so; or perhaps he simply wanted the same thing. Either way, it seemed to be working. 

“I am always honored to fulfil my lord Ao Shun’s requests,” Li Ming said formally. “I will remain in contact.” With that, he bowed and was on his way. 

Kai had scarcely straightened from his own bow when Irene shut the door. It was probably just barely avoiding actually slamming it in Li Ming’s face, but her nerves and her patience were both dangerously frayed. She was finished with humoring formality and tradition today, and she was fairly certain she’d earned it. 

Immediately, she sensed that the atmosphere in the room had changed. Li Ming had made her acutely uncomfortable, but he’d had an aura of order about him, a very specific subset of calm. That was gone now, and Kai...well, Kai was anything but calm or orderly right now. He was still standing across the room from her, one hand curled into a fist at his side, the dragon-fire in his eyes throwing the dark shadows under them into stark relief. For a moment she was reminded of the draconic rage she’d seen upon freeing him from the collar and shackles, but that wasn’t quite right. The emotion she sensed from him now was fear, she thought, and longing. Or maybe she was projecting.

“Irene,” he breathed, the edge of desperation in his voice unmistakable.

Dignity and propriety be damned, Irene decided, and closed the distance between them to hug him. Kai met her halfway with one long stride, his grasp tight enough to remind her of his inhuman strength, though that only added to her enormous sense of relief. 

She held him for far longer than she probably should, but she hadn’t seen him in _days_ , and when she had he’d been fresh off of being kidnapped. It was reasonable to want a little assurance that he was here and okay. He certainly didn’t seem keen to let go, either. 

When they finally did, she had to remind herself very firmly not to kiss him, because that was not appropriate and it was not _like that_ \- even though, just like the last time she had felt this strong an urge to do so, she could tell that he wanted it too. 

“Are you all right?” he asked. They had pulled apart, but his hands still had a loose grip on her upper arms. She brought her hands up to rest on his elbows, reasoning that was at least as professional as a hug, wasn't it? 

“Yes,” she answered. “Are you?”

“I’m fine,” he said, which was clearly not true. She could see the exhaustion in him, the worry behind his eyes that still flashed with draconic fire. But she wasn’t exactly fine either, so she let it go. 

“You’re cold, though,” Kai continued. “And wet.” That _was_ true. She’d taken off her wet coat but the bottom of her skirt was still soaked through, as well as her shoes. “You need to warm up.” 

Oh, she was _definitely_ going to ignore the way his voice lowered an octave or five at that suggestion. She was also going to ignore the images that flashed through her mind of the many ways he could help her with that. 

“I’m fine,” she started to insist, though it was as much to herself as it was to him. Not that she doubted she’d be all right -- it wasn’t as if she was the one who’d been kidnapped or held prisoner, no matter how many complaints she might have about the Library’s disciplinary policies. It was just that there was still a non-zero part of her mind that wanted to say otherwise, wanted to play the damsel and let him help. She cleared her throat. “I suppose I could do with a change of clothes, though.”

“I’ll make tea,” said Kai, which did in fact sound pleasant and was unequivocally a way that he _could_ help without toeing any lines of appropriateness. 

“Thank you.” She made it to the second stair before he spoke again.

“Irene, wait.”

She paused, turning to look at him again, eyebrow arched. 

He was still standing in exactly the same spot, looking at her with such hapless anxiety -- which he’d obviously failed to shove down despite his best efforts -- that it made her heart clench. “Were you -- allowed to keep your post here? And as my mentor?”

“Oh!” she said, caught off guard and immediately having to fight off the urge to slap herself on the forehead. In her concern for him, she had failed to consider how much he might be worrying about _that_. “Yes, I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner. I’m on probation.” 

“On probation?” he repeated, apparently surprised. For a second he’d seemed happy, when she said _yes_ , but he quickly grew indignant. “You averted a war!”

“You were just concerned about whether I had even kept my post,” she pointed out. She’d already had her own moment of indignation when she’d received the judgment, but really, it had turned out much better than it could have. 

“I had still hoped you would have gotten more recognition for the good you did,” he said stiffly. He seemed to be refraining from saying something much less civil, the red glint that had only just left his eyes returning with anger on her behalf. It would be unprofessional for her to be pleased with Kai’s defensiveness, so of course she was not. 

What she _was_ , though, was cold and wet and still in her dirty skirt. So she said firmly, “I am grateful that it wasn’t worse,” then turned around and resumed her climb up the stairs before Kai had a chance to say anything more. Which might have been unfair of her, but where was this conversation going to get them anyway?

Alone in her room, Irene managed to get out of her wet clothes quickly enough, then hesitated. It was late and she was tired. Ordinarily she’d change for the night and think nothing of it. She and Kai had spent plenty of late nights reading in the lounge, both of them in their night clothes and dressing gowns. That had never been a problem before, yet now she found herself thinking of the way it had felt to hug him, the way his clothes had clung to his body after he’d roused the water in Venice, the way she wanted to -- She was _not_ going to go there. Putting a firm stop to that train of thought, she told herself that she wouldn’t be continuing it and changed efficiently into her night clothes as proof of that.

By the time she emerged into the lounge, Kai had finished with the tea, which was resting on a tray on the end table. He was seated on the couch, head tipped back and brow furrowed, like he was fighting some internal battle -- which, she thought, he probably was. Seeing him this way felt like a definite intrusion, and for a moment she actually entertained the idea of backing out of the room again, perhaps to come back with a noisier, more obvious approach or possibly just to go to bed. She didn’t get the chance, though.

Apparently registering her presence, Kai straightened in a rush, then slumped a bit, clearly aiming for something approximating casual posture. He almost pulled it off. “Tea, right?”

“Yes,” she answered, though he obviously already knew that. She wasn’t about to call him on that. 

There was plenty of room on the couch next to him, and she was briefly tempted by it. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t sat close to each other plenty of times. But there was an armchair on the other side of the end table where the tea was, so she chose that option as if she had never hesitated in the first place. If Kai noticed, he also chose not to comment. 

There were two cups sitting on the tray, but no cream or sugar. She was about to ask about that when she looked at the cup sitting closest to her and saw that it looked to be the exact color she was used to her tea being after she added her preferred amounts of the accoutrements in. 

It tasted exactly how she liked it too. She glanced at Kai, who was watching her. She had never told him how she liked her tea, and he had never made it for her like this before, though she probably shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d noticed how she took it. He was observant, of course; why would he _not_ have noticed? 

“Thank you,” she said after taking another sip, realizing that she hadn’t said that yet. 

“Think nothing of it,” said Kai, in that especially formal tone she’d begun to recognize as discomfort or evasion. He picked up his own mug and took a careful sip, his hands shaking almost imperceptibly. 

Irene didn’t miss it, of course. She was reminded suddenly of observing him as they’d escaped the prison in Venice, the way he’d seemed diminished, the confidence that so defined him badly shaken. That wasn't quite how he looked now -- it was somehow both better and worse. He was working _so hard_ to keep up appearances that he almost managed to pull it off. But she knew him well enough to see the cracks in the facade, to see how utterly exhausted he was by it, and that was a stunningly intimate thing to realize. 

Taking a breath, she tried to come up with a question that he could respond to honestly, a way to help him take a little of that guard down. She was far too familiar with his draconic sense of pride to think that asking directly again would get her anywhere. “So, fill me in, please. How long was I gone by this world’s calendar? At least a couple of days, I gather?”

He took another sip of tea, his throat working visibly as he swallowed it. “Three, actually.”

She nodded. That was close to what she had surmised from the information she’d been able to gather on the way here, but it was nice to have confirmation that she hadn’t been gone weeks. 

“Did I miss anything in that time?” she asked. 

“No,” Kai said simply. She wondered if that was the only response she was going to get, but he continued after taking another drink. “Vale came by to see if we had anything ‘difficult’ with which he could assist. Li Ming has also been here frequently.” 

He was unable to keep the irritation out of his voice at that last part. Irene tried to keep her own voice neutral when she asked, “How frequently?” 

“Each day, for most of the day,” Kai said. He seemed to catch his own tone, because he cleared his throat and took another sip of tea before adding, “He was doing his duty by my lord uncle, who is rightfully concerned that I might once again put our family’s honor at risk.”

If that was his uncle’s true concern, Irene thought, she would like to say some choice things to him. Not that she ever could. “Kai,” she said instead, “I’m sure you and your uncle, and Li Ming for that matter, are all aware that you did not get kidnapped on purpose. In fact, I’m sure you did everything in your power to fight back.”

“Of course I didn’t get kidnapped on purpose,” he said sharply, red flaring in his eyes for a moment and then receding just as quickly as regret washed over his face. He sucked in a breath that was decidedly unsteady, then blew it back out in a sigh that was more decisive. “The point remains that I was overconfident and thereby it _was_ my fault.”

“Kai,” she said again, her heart aching for him. She knew that her knowledge of his family had only begun to make the barest scratches at the surface, but everything she had learned over the past few days certainly gave her _some_ context for the tremendous pressure he was under. “How were you overconfident?”

He looked into his mug for a moment, then stood and refilled it before sinking back down to the couch. Anyone less graceful would have caused tea to slosh over the rim with such a dramatic motion, but of course Kai didn’t spill a drop. “I was -- led to believe there was a random individual in need of help. I intervened, assuming it would be easy. I should have been more aware of my surroundings, given -- well, given good sense.”

That made her clench her fingers around her own mug, now even angrier about the situation. She had known the basics from Vale, of course, but hearing him talk about it this way… “So they took advantage of your desire to _help_ somebody.” 

“And my arrogance,” Kai insisted. 

Irene was no stranger to the fact that Kai could be arrogant sometimes, but regarding his own strength it was almost always earned. She was sadly also no stranger to his tendency towards self-flagellation. 

“I would have acted the same,” she assured him, confident that it was true. Neither of them would have ignored a cry for help. 

“They deliberately separated us,” Kai said. “They knew, as I do, that you would have been able to stop them.” 

“They did get you alone,” Irene acknowledged. She had done her fuming over that, and her fair share of worrying about it during the days she had been stuck in the Library. “If you want to take something from this to learn, like being more aware of your surroundings, then fine. But know that at least _I_ do not blame you. If anything, I bear more responsibility than you do, as I am your mentor.” 

Predictably, Kai’s eyes flared with anger on her behalf over that. “My missteps are no fault of yours. I should have been perfectly capable of surviving on my own.” 

Irene sighed, suppressing the urge to lecture him. What she _wanted_ was for him to stop punishing himself and there was absolutely no way that losing her own temper was going to accomplish that. She took another steadying breath and then another sip of her tea. Her mug was also starting to get toward the bottom, but she didn’t want to bother with the distraction of refilling it at this point. “What about the Guantes, then? Are they not the _most_ at fault here, regardless of any actions you might or might not have taken?”

He considered, avoiding her gaze by looking down into his mug again. He was drinking his tea almost compulsively, she realized. It wasn’t like him to go through so much of it so fast.

“Who do you blame more for what happened?” he asked finally, still not looking at her. “The Guantes or yourself?”

“The Guantes, of course,” she said easily. There might be a lot of pieces here that made her angry at herself, but she was under no illusions that the Guantes were ultimately at fault. “Do you not?”

“That is -- not how my kind view such a situation,” said Kai, back to the overly formal diction. 

“Then how do you view it?” she asked as casually as she was able. Judging by his current _it’s all my fault_ , self-blaming attitude, she could basically surmise the draconic view, but it was so rare that Kai spoke of that part of his life that she wanted to know as much as she could. 

He looked at her appraisingly, and for a moment she wondered if he was going to try to change the subject, or find a convenient out, like she might have. She wouldn’t push him if he decided he didn’t want to talk about it. 

He might have been pushing himself, though, because it took him a few seconds before he spoke. “Such loss or weakness, like the kind that I displayed by allowing myself to be kidnapped, is dishonorable. Shameful. We are stronger than that. If a dragon loses in such a way, then of course the blame lies with them. As it does with me.”

That was more or less what Irene had reasoned, but it hurt to see Kai be so hard on himself nonetheless. “Your uncle didn’t seem to blame you,” she pointed out. 

“Not out loud, perhaps,” Kai said, unswayed. “But my lord uncle knows as well as I do. That is why he’s assigned Li Ming to keep watch over me: to make sure I don’t embarrass our family further.” 

Irene considered how to respond to that. She wanted more than anything else to convince him to stop blaming himself. She wanted to tell him that his family’s view was completely unfair, that he’d been through far more than enough without also punishing himself. She knew he wouldn’t be able to accept that sort of absolution from her, though. They might have only been working together for a couple of months, but she already knew him well enough to be sure of that. Plus there was the fact that if he was right about his family’s views -- and he probably was -- then she couldn’t just dismiss those as incorrect. Particularly with Li Ming here, there were very real stakes and she had to take them seriously.

“Will he be staying in this alternate, then?” she asked finally, still cautious to keep her tone neutral. The idea of that set off every alarm bell in her mind, not just in terms of potential political ramifications or liability for the Library, but also...Also because there was a completely irrational part of her that wanted Kai all to herself, she realized. Well, _that_ was inconvenient and she absolutely was _not_ about to ponder the broader implications of it right now.

“Yes,” Kai answered, looking at her appraisingly. She must not have been able to keep her concern out of her tone because he added, “He will not interfere with our Library business. I am still going to continue as your student.”

That, of course, was also part of what scared Irene; not so much that Li Ming would interfere with their work, which she wasn’t really convinced that he wouldn’t. No, what really scared her was that Kai was going to be taken away from her. It was almost inevitable that it would happen eventually, and Irene knew what was said about delaying the inevitable… That it was an excellent idea and she should definitely continue doing it. 

She didn’t want to say any of that, though, so she just nodded. Kai’s hands were still unsteady on his mug, and he was already almost finished with his second cup. Worry for him bloomed in her chest, muting her other myriad of fears. 

“Have you been all right while I was gone?” she asked, her tone very professional and casual and not at all searching. 

“Yes,” Kai said, too quickly. “Nothing happened beyond what I told you; Vale visited. Li Ming has been here.” 

That was basically what Irene had suspected. “You didn’t do anything while I was gone? Did you stay in the house the entire time?” 

He tensed visibly at that, evasion turning to outright defensiveness, though he was still doing his best not to show it. “What purpose would I have to leave the house? It isn’t as if I’d be taking any assignments without you here. It isn’t as if I’d even be cleared to do that on my own, recent events notwithstanding.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Irene, trying to keep her tone light. She was prying, and he knew that she was prying, but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying to be subtle about it. Ordinarily she was very good at getting any sort of information from anyone, but Kai...well, he knew her too well for most of her usual tactics to work, for one thing. And she didn’t actually _want_ to manipulate him for another, even if in this case she felt confident that it was for his own good. “Surely you must have needed to go to the shops, at least? Or if not then out to eat.”

“Li Ming is my family’s trusted servant,” he said tersely, a muscle in his jaw jumping visibly, though he was still clearly trying to project the image of calm. “He made sure that I had everything I needed. He could do the same for you, if you wished.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Irene said, with no intention of ever taking him up on it. That sounded like a surefire way to allow Kai’s uncle, and by extension the rest of the dragons, to have more control over them and potentially seek influence with the Library. “And I am glad he helped you while I was gone. Will you be all right going on assignments with me again?” 

“Of course,” Kai said, still sounding defensive. “But are you not on probation?” 

“That doesn’t mean we won’t get assignments,” Irene said. “It means they’re going to be more...difficult.” 

A flash of that dragon-fire that was growing ever more familiar to her lit up in Kai’s eyes again. “To punish you for rescuing me and averting a catastrophe?” 

“Yes,” Irene said simply. She wondered if he was trying to divert the conversation on purpose. He probably was, but she had more than likely gotten as far as she was going to get with her probing of Kai’s mental state without straining their relationship, which was the last thing she wanted to do. He was obviously traumatized by what had happened, but she would have to let him deal with it on his own time and not push. Surely that was for the best, right? 

He sighed. “I do not approve of the Library’s methods of discipline.” That was putting it mildly, she could tell by the tone of his voice, but he was too polite and too aware of her loyalties to say anything more harsh than that. 

That was fair, she supposed. She didn’t approve of the way his family apparently viewed his kidnapping, but it would have been no more productive for her to insist on that. They were at an impasse: both displeased with the other’s situation, though grateful that it wasn’t worse. At least, she hoped that Kai was grateful to be allowed to remain her student, because she was not prepared to lose him. Especially not after all of this. 

“It seems,” she said finally, “that neither of us is particularly pleased with our current circumstances. But unfortunately there doesn’t appear to be a remedy for that besides to grin and bear it.”

Kai wrinkled his nose. “I will _not_ grin while bearing it. I refuse.” It was ridiculous and petulant and the most familiar thing he’d said all night, his usual sense of pride showing through the restraint he’d been showing.

Irene allowed herself to smile a bit. “Fine, then. Brood and bear it.”

“I’d think you would prefer that wording for the alliteration,” he muttered, most definitely brooding. 

Her smile widened. “It does have quite the ring to it.” She finished the last of her tea, attempting to hide both her smile and a yawn behind it. 

Kai noticed anyway, of course. He put his mug down and said, “You’re tired. You should get some sleep.”

She nodded and placed her mug down next to his. She didn’t think she was going to be able to get anything else out of him tonight, though she would have stayed up with him if he’d wanted it. The way his eyes followed her when she stood up indicated that he might, actually, but that he couldn’t articulate it, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask. 

“You should as well,” she said, doubting that he would. 

“I don’t need as much as you,” he said, a familiar refrain. She wanted to ask how much, if any, he’d gotten while she was gone. There were many things she wanted to ask, many things she wanted to say. But she settled for gently touching his shoulder as she passed him, and not allowing herself to look back at him as she made her way to her room.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also takes place after book 2!

The walls and the ceiling were coming down. 

It wasn’t as if the cell had been very spacious to begin with, but what little room there was would soon disappear under a pile of rubble. Great cracks yawned in the thick stone that formed the ceiling, chunks of it raining down and pelting him like bullets. He needed to get free, needed to get _out_ before the whole place came down on top of him, crushed him beneath a pile of rubble, where his body would never even be discovered. 

He struggled wildly against the shackles that held his wrists, the collar that bound his throat and prevented him from changing form, that rendered him more helpless than a human. But though the walls seemed to barely have any solid substance left, the restraints would not budge, in fact seemed to grow tighter and tighter until --

Kai sat upright all at once, the bedclothes falling to the floor in a heap. His entire body was thrumming with adrenaline, with the readiness for a fight -- his nails had shifted to claws, digging into his own palm, and though he couldn’t see it in the darkness, he could tell that the scale pattern was showing livid on his skin. Worse, he could feel every significant body of water in the city responding, wanting to come to him, to aid him in the fight against a threat that was nothing but a ghost in his own mind. 

He took several deep breaths, prying his fingers away from his palms through force of will. It took far more mental effort than it normally did to rescind his power, for his claws to shrink back to nails and for the waters in the area to calm. He opened his eyes that had closed of their own volition -- another way his body had betrayed him -- to look down at his hands as if there would be some explanation there other than his own weakness. There was not, of course. He had grown sufficiently used to the darkness now to see that there was still a faint scale pattern on his skin. Unacceptable. 

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes as if to force out any fragility. This behavior was unbecoming of a dragon, especially one of his rank. He continued trying to calm himself down, but his frustration at himself wasn’t helping matters. 

Nor was this room. He had grown accustomed to its small size, but now the walls seemed even smaller, closer together than before. He had been stuck here for days waiting for Irene to get back from the Library, only pretending to sleep in order to get Li Ming to leave him be for a few hours. Once Irene had returned, he had erroneously assumed that he would be able to sleep again, that everything would feel normal and safe. But of course the moment he had managed to fall asleep, the nightmares came. 

It had been just over a week since she’d returned, and nothing seemed to be getting any better. If anything, things were getting worse. Irene had yet to receive another assignment from the Library despite her certainty that they would be coming soon and would be unpleasant. The fact that it had yet to happen was only increasing the sense of tension. It would be a relief to be done waiting, and perhaps even to have a distraction. But for now, he absolutely had to get out of this room before he lost his grip on the panic that was still trying to claw its way past his self-control.

Out of habit, he pulled on a dressing gown before leaving the room. He’d done the same every night since coming back from -- well, he wasn’t going to put _that_ into words, even in his head. Especially in his head.

He knew the house well enough by now to make his way down the stairs without making a sound or turning on a light, not wanting to wake Irene -- not wanting to disturb her or let her see him like this. 

He made it all the way to the kitchen before he froze, his entire body jerking into a defensive posture before he could stop himself. Irene was sitting at the little dining table on the other side of the room, a book open in front of her and a single candle the only source of light.

She didn’t seem at all surprised to see him. Rather, she carefully placed her bookmark and closed the book, then looked up at him almost expectantly. “I’m sorry if I startled you.” 

“What are you doing awake?” Kai asked before he could stop himself. Then he cursed himself for speaking without thinking, and for lacking manners on top of that. “No apologies are necessary.” 

She tilted her head in acknowledgement, but focused on his question. “You’re aware I could ask you the same question?” 

“That’s quite a cliche,” he replied. He was still stiff and he made a conscious effort to relax his posture, to tell his body that he was in no danger. The only danger here was of embarrassment because, he realized now, Irene must have been waiting up on purpose. She was also in a dressing gown, but neither that nor the bit of sleepwear he could see underneath appeared rumpled like he feared his did. That was also a new book she was reading, different than the one he’d seen her finish the night before, and she was already three-quarters of the way through it, judging by her bookmark, so she must have been up for quite some time. 

He wondered if she would be proud of his deductions, if they were on a mission. 

“Sometimes things are cliches for a reason,” Irene said. Which was also a cliche. 

“You didn’t answer,” he pointed out. A part of him wanted to confront her outright, to force her to confess to -- what, spying on him? Observing his patterns of activity when he’d thought he was out of her sight? It was ridiculous, and yet. Part of him wanted to force her to say it, to accuse her of something, to start a fight. That, a voice at the back of his mind said, would be far less embarrassing than the alternative. He would regret it, though, he knew. Irene had done nothing to deserve his anger -- quite the opposite, in fact -- and hurting her to save his own pride was absolutely unacceptable.

“I’m reading,” said Irene, gesturing to the book like it should have been obvious. And the beauty of it, of course, was that it was _true_. She _was_ up reading and it was far from the first time she’d done that, even in the relatively short period that Kai had known her. It was absolutely plausible and yet he was also certain that she was doing it specifically so that she would have an opportunity to intercept him exactly as she was doing now. Sometimes, in thinking of Irene as a friend, he managed to forget just how _good_ she was at being a spy.

He sighed. “Well, in that case, I came down to get a drink.”

“Tea?” she offered, giving the tray on the table in front of her a tiny push in his direction. Convenient, that it was already there. 

“Thank you,” he said and took a seat across from her. There were two cups on the tray. Also convenient. “Do you always read with two cups ready for tea?” 

“Well,” Irene said, in a tone that made him instantly regret bringing it up, “I had noticed that you haven’t been sleeping lately. I thought I might see you at some point while I was reading.” 

“I need less sleep than a human,” he said immediately. He had to put all of his self-control into keeping his hands steady as he poured himself a cup of tea. 

Irene might have perceived something anyway, given the way she was watching him pour. “Surely you need _some_ though?” 

“I got some,” he replied. He must have been asleep at some point, after all, in order to have that nightmare. Then the thought occurred to him that, as she obviously knew he hadn’t been getting much sleep over the past week, he had clearly not been as subtle as he’d thought he was being. He was certain that he’d been acting in his usual manner during the day, but Irene _was_ a very good spy. “I apologize if I’ve disturbed your rest, however.”

“You are absolutely the most courteous housemate I have ever had,” said Irene, taking a sip of her tea. “No contest.” She didn’t, he noticed, dispute his actual point. Which probably meant that she _had_ been losing sleep because of him, though whether that was due to his disturbing her or her own conviction to find out how he was doing, he couldn’t be sure.

Kai sipped his own tea, which was chamomile. It was wrong, and it might have helped with sleep if he’d been a human. As it was, nearly all herbs were simply too benign to have any impact on dragons at all. More interestingly, he realized that the tea was warm. It wasn’t too hot to drink, but nearly, suggesting it had only recently been made.

“This is fresh,” he pointed out, taking another swallow and regarding her in the dim light. “If you merely thought you _might_ see me at some point tonight, how did you have any idea when to make it?”

Irene regarded him over the top of her mug. “You’ve been awake at more or less the exact same time the past three nights in a row.”

“I didn’t realize,” he said honestly. His discomfort increased at the knowledge that his body had betrayed him in a way that was so clearly discernible -- though not to him. “I will work on it, and try to stop disturbing you.” 

She sighed, shoulders slumping in exasperation, as if the fight to keep pretending had gone out of her. “Kai. You are my student, and also my friend, and I would like to help you.” 

It was the _’friend’_ that got to him. He looked at her, seeing the sincerity and concern in her face. He cared about her very much, and while he was aware she cared about him too -- especially after the lengths she’d gone to to save him -- hearing the confirmation was...nice.

“I have been having...dreams,” he said slowly, unable to make himself say the word _’nightmare’_. “About where I was taken.” 

“You’re aware that’s completely normal, right?” Irene said gently. 

“I have no idea whether such things are normal for dragons,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “Though I know such things happen with humans.”

“You went through something that few dragons likely ever have,” she said. 

He bit back a comment about how no other dragon would have allowed themselves to get into such a situation, as he knew she would take issue with that. And it would be deflecting at any rate, something he was trying not to let himself do, no matter how much he wished to. 

“Perhaps not something few dragons have gone through,” he said carefully, looking down into his mug before taking another drink from it. “Kidnappings are not -- terribly rare, though usually they aren’t perpetrated by the Fae.”

Irene’s brow furrowed at that, clear concern and the sort of disapproval she often expressed toward aspects of draconic culture that she viewed as inhumane. In anyone else, he’d find it infuriating -- disrespectful, even. He’d been raised to respect such traditions and conventions, after all. It should be unthinkable for a human to pass judgment on such things. But somehow he always had a difficult time preventing himself from _believing_ what Irene was saying, even when it ran counter to everything he’d ever known. 

Also, she happened to be looking extraordinarily beautiful in the light of the candle, the lines of her face soft and ethereal, framed by a few locks of hair that had escaped being tied back. 

“Was there a ‘but’ to that?” she asked, clearing her throat softly as though she’d noticed the energy between them beginning to shift. “It sounded like there might be.”

He took a breath, focusing himself. “But most dragons who experienced such a thing would not have survived it.”

“Oh,” she said, eyes wide. She wore a thoughtful, perhaps fearful expression; he wondered if her mind was traveling the same direction his often had over the past week, to what very nearly could have happened to him. “Well. Most dragons do not have me.” 

“No one else is as lucky as I am on that front,” he said, solemn and serious. He was well aware that no one else would have done so much for him, or been able to if they’d tried. 

In the faint candle light, he thought he could make out a faint blush staining her cheeks, and she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“I knew you would come for me,” he continued, not giving her the opportunity to deflect or downplay her own abilities. “Though I admit I was unsure even you would be able to, given the difficulty. I was afraid you may have to enact vengeance, rather than stage a rescue.” 

“I remember that you thought we weren’t real at first,” Irene said. He wondered if he’d have been able to hear the worry in her tone even just a month ago, or if it had come from getting to know her better. She tended to hide herself well, so he suspected the latter. 

“It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d hallucinated,” he said before he had a chance to think better of it. It was an awful thing to admit, to even speak aloud. Had he said it to another dragon, exile might not have been an overreaction. But Irene was not a dragon, and it wasn’t as though he had any dignity left to preserve in front of her. She had _seen_ him at his lowest point -- not just imprisoned, in the literal depths of despair, but also entirely incapacitated by chaos. She’d had to _carry_ him out of Venice. And besides, she’d figure out what he meant whether he’d been clear about it or not.

“Kai,” she said softly, in that particular way that meant so much more. He could hear the distress in it and a part of him wanted to make it go away, wanted to take back what he’d just said and pretend it had been some sort of lie or mistake. But the larger part of him _liked_ what that distress implied -- that he was important to her, that his wellbeing _mattered_ even in such shameful circumstances.

“I suppose they might have actually been dreams,” he offered, though he didn’t sound convincing even in his own ears. “It was difficult to keep track of -- well, anything there. But it certainly felt like I was awake when -- when I saw things.”

“Yes, it definitely sounds like you were having hallucinations,” she said, voice clipped in the manner that meant she was hiding anger -- anger on his behalf. He should not have taken as much pleasure from that as he did; he certainly never enjoyed it when Irene experienced negative emotions. But, as with the distress she felt for him, he couldn’t help but appreciate what it signified. “And I imagine that would make your dreams more...immersive, as well.” 

That revelation surprised him, as he hadn’t actually considered that. But his nightmares this past week certainly had a lot in common with the hallucinations he’d experienced. He’d had a rather vivid experience of not knowing what was real and what was fake, making it easier for his own traitorous subconscious to delude him. 

“Yes,” he answered at last, though she hadn’t actually phrased it as a question. He hadn’t known whether to believe she and Vale were real or not. Though she had hugged him when she found him; even his hallucinations hadn’t dared go that far. And the way she’d been looking at him at certain points during their escape… 

He shook his head. “Regardless. I should be able to conquer this on my own. I apologize that you’ve had to become involved.” Though he shuddered to think what he would do if she wasn’t here, if he’d had to be by himself -- or, possibly worse, back in his father’s court. 

Irene sighed, flattening her palms against the table and leaning forward. “Will you stop? I don’t want you to feel guilty or to keep apologizing. I _want_ to help you with this.”

Kai swallowed, biting back another reflexive apology. With another dragon -- with any of his elders, to be precise -- continued apology would be expected, even after a statement like that. But, as he’d reminded himself so many times before, Irene wasn’t a dragon and didn’t expect the same type of responses. In fact, she’d likely only be more frustrated if he responded to her the way he would have with one of his own kind. Still, responding any other way felt...wrong. Dangerous. And it was hard to reason through such a conundrum when he was so _tired_.

“I appreciate that,” he managed finally, aware that she was expecting a response from him, and she deserved on. Irene had always been unimaginably generous with him, and he had to admit that paradoxically that was one of the things that always made him want _more_ with her. “I am just -- unsure what you could possibly do beyond all that you’ve already done for me. You risked your _life_ , Irene.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to leave you there,” she said matter-of-factly. And he had known, was completely confident, that she would come for him, or at that she would try. But it really hit him just then that it wouldn’t have been the case for anyone but her; or Vale. How strange, that neither of them were his family, and yet… 

Kai cleared his throat, forcing himself to meet her eyes. “Thank you. I know you’ll say that I don’t need to thank you, but I wish to.” 

She allowed that, nodding in response. They were silent for a few moments, in which they both sipped from their mugs, before Irene finally spoke again. “Well. I’ve found that a warm cup of tea and a good book have always helped me sleep. Thankfully, we’ve got no shortage of either here.” 

He smiled, an actual, genuine smile, which only widened when a matching one appeared on her face. “Don’t suppose I could have that one?” he teased, inching his fingers towards the book she had in front of her. 

She snatched it up and shot him a mock-glare. “You may have it in an hour or so, when I’m finished. I believe I’ve solved the mystery already.” 

“I’m sure that you have,” he said sincerely. “I can wait.”

He didn’t know what she expected him to do when she shrugged and began reading again, and he honestly didn’t either. He was content to wait, though, and settled back in his chair while she read. 

He woke up some time later with a slight crick in his neck and a blanket tossed over him. Irene was gone and the candle was out, but the book sat on the table in front of him. There was enough light coming in through the window for him to read the note she’d left on top of the book that read: _I was right about the mystery._

He smiled once more.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have now arrived post-book 3, just in time for part 3 ;)

Kai was bleeding through his shirt.

Irene had noticed it before they had even left the Library, as they’d made their way from Coppelia’s office back to the door that led to Vale’s world -- to home. He had his waistcoat hanging open because he’d never bothered to button it again after Vale had bandaged the wound on his midriff, which had allowed her to see the small dark stain. She had realized immediately that it was blood, that he was still bleeding, but he wasn’t complaining and she knew from experience not to bring it up at that moment. In reality, it likely meant that his wounds had never _stopped_ bleeding, which probably wasn’t a surprise given the makeshift bandages and the severity of the gash. But the fact that it wasn’t unexpected didn’t make it unconcerning. 

By the time they’d dropped Vale off and returned to their own lodgings, the stain on the white fabric of his shirt had gone from the size of a small coin to an area larger than Irene would be able to cover with her palm. Kai still wasn’t complaining, but he was pale and there was a slight sheen of sweat on his skin. The fact that he _wasn’t_ complaining was the biggest tell that his injuries weren’t trivial.

“Come on,” she said firmly once they’d closed the front door behind them. “Let’s rebandange those properly.” 

He didn’t protest, another sign of just how seriously he was hurt. She briefly debated having him wait downstairs in the study, but their first aid supplies were in the bathroom upstairs, and there was a good chance he’d need to lie down. So to the lounge it was. 

She let him go up first to set the pace; he seemed rather determined to walk normally, though she didn’t miss the way his hand gripped the handrail tighter than usual. 

“Couch,” she ordered, pointing. 

“Yes, madam,” he said with a teasing edge to his voice, despite obeying immediately. She waited to make sure he sat down okay, then dashed to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. She’d thought about asking him to undo his shirt, but then remembered that his arm was also injured. She saw it in her mind, those makeshift pieces of shrapnel hurling up at him while he was in dragon form, and the blood, and the fire — 

She shook her head and glared at herself in the bathroom mirror, as though that would stop her mind from replaying the scene over and over for the rest of the day, the rest of the week probably, or longer. She would not let herself dwell on that; nor would she let herself dwell on her own appearance in the mirror. She grabbed the first aid kit and marched back into the lounge. 

Kai was still on the couch, despite her irrational fear that he would have disappeared in the thirty seconds she had been gone. He had taken it upon himself to start unbuttoning his shirt, heedless of his injured arm. 

“Don’t do that,” said Irene, with more force than she’d really intended. Her adrenaline had faded into fatigue as the hours of debriefing and paperwork had slipped by within the Library, but now it was back with a vengeance and then some. A vendetta, perhaps. 

Kai dropped his hand immediately and sat straight upright, looking alarmed at her tone. “Do what?”

Irene sighed, feeling a rush of guilt for startling him, particularly now. Gods knew she’d put him through enough over the past few days. It was her fault that he was injured at all. The last thing he needed was her snapping at him instead of helping. “Sorry. Just - let me help. You should be resting that arm.”

“My arm’s not bad,” said Kai, which meant that it was. Irene knew him well enough by now to be accustomed to the way he complained about any trivial discomfort but minimized more severe maladies. 

Still, he sat back cooperatively as she knelt in front of him, keeping his arms at his sides. Irene held her breath as she finished unbuttoning his shirt, so focused on his injuries that she wasn’t thinking about how close they were or the way she was touching him. She exhaled in a rush as she finally got his shirt all the way open and saw the blood-soaked bandages, so thoroughly saturated that they were practically glued to his skin.

“You know,” said Kai, “if you wanted to undress me, there were far simpler ways to achieve it.”

She was too worried by the sight of the blood to laugh like he clearly wanted her to, but she rewarded him with a fleeting smile, all she could muster at the moment. “Believe me, I am never aiming to see you bleed out.”

“That’s a bit dramatic,” he said lightly. “And linguistically imprecise. I’m not bleeding out. I’m just...bleeding.”

“Not right now,” she allowed. Her inaccurate language would have bothered her far more in different circumstances, but right now she was fairly distracted by the sight that greeted her once she took off his sopping bandage and set it in the small bag with the first aid kit. 

She nearly hissed aloud at the sight of it. It had been several hours, but it looked fresh still. Of course, it was basically in stasis while they were in the Library, since wounds didn’t heal there. Had they left earlier, his draconic nature would likely have healed it more by now. As it was, it still looked red and angry and smeared with blood. 

“It looks worse than it is,” he said, apparently noticing her concern. 

She gave him a look. “You don’t have to be stoic right now.” 

“Neither do you,” he said. She was certain he believed that, and equally certain that he was wrong. If she wasn’t stoic right now, if she let the horrible pain and memories from the last few hours get to her, then who was going to bandage his wounds? 

“I’m always stoic,” Irene said reflexively, fully aware that it was nonsense. It might have been accurate to describe her as pragmatic, and certainly she prided herself on avoiding being overly emotional. But true stoicism was a lofty goal, and she frequently fell short. In fact, it would be helpful if she could be _more_ stoic right now -- Her hands were shaking badly, and she could only hope that he wouldn’t notice.

That hope lasted all of half a second, of course, because the next thing he did was to catch her hands in his own, holding them firmly. “Irene. I’m all right. I promise.”

“Good,” said Irene, pulling her hands away. His touch had felt good -- dangerous -- and had made her want more. The idea of throwing propriety to the wind and allowing herself to simply indulge in the comfort he was no doubt offering was incredibly tempting. Which was exactly why she wasn’t going to do it, particularly now, when he’d been injured rescuing her. “But presumptuous of you to think I might _only_ be worried about you at the moment.” It wasn’t nice, and she wasn’t proud of it, but it did feel considerably safer.

It backfired, though, because it made Kai look at her with alarm, apparently believing she was referencing _herself_ as a cause of worry. “Are you okay? Are you injured?” He scanned his eyes over her body, zeroing in on the burn on her arm and one on her neck that she’d thought she had hidden well enough with her hair. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said with a sigh. 

His response was to point with his uninjured arm at the burn on her arm, giving her a look that was almost petulant. She imitated the gesture as best as she could, pointing at the wound that was staring at her from his abdomen. Really, her injuries were extremely minor, especially in comparison to _that_. 

“I thought you weren’t worried about this,” he said, following her finger to his wound, as though she might be pointing at something else. 

She winced, feeling guilty. “I said I wasn’t _only_ worried about that… I’m also worried about your arm.” Though she had actually said _he_ wasn’t the only thing she was worried about, she was glad that he didn’t raise that point, though he _did_ raise an eyebrow, indicating that he was well aware of it. 

“This is going to need stitches,” she said suddenly, busying herself pulling supplies out of the kit. 

“Better bandages should do well enough,” he said evasively. Ordinarily Irene was inclined to trust him about anything pertaining to his physical abilities, particularly since she didn’t actually know the differences between humans and dragons-in-human-form. But she also knew that he had a tendency to minimize weakness, as she did, and his tone now made it abundantly clear that was what he was doing. 

“No, they won’t,” said Irene. “We might have had makeshift materials, but Vale did a good job with this. If bandages were going to work, it would have stopped bleeding a long time ago. But this is worse than ever. And besides, if you leave it gaping open like that, you’re practically begging for an infection.”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” he said, with even less conviction than a moment ago.

“Stitches,” Irene said firmly, “or we go to a hospital.” She stared him down for a long moment until he sighed and nodded.

Before she could stitch it, of course, it would need to be cleaned. They’d basically skipped that step before with the limited supplies available. She got as far as pouring antiseptic onto a gauze swab before he caught her wrist, which forced her to look up and meet his eyes again reluctantly. It was so much easier if she could just stay focused on the task at hand, but she was not about to do something painful to his wound when he clearly wanted her to pause. The apprehension in his face made her freeze further still.

“Irene,” he said quietly, “are you angry with me? For doubting your ability to take on Alberich?”

“What?” she asked, so surprised that she probably would have dropped the gauze if he hadn’t been holding onto her wrist. “No! I’m not angry at you at all, why would you think that?”

“You’ve been short with me since we got home,” he said. He sounded almost shy, or _hurt_ , and all the blustery irritation she’d been able to muster evaporated immediately. 

“Kai,” she said firmly. He was still holding her wrist, so she raised her free hand to rest it on top of his. “I doubted my _own_ ability to take on Alberich. You and Vale showing up definitely saved my life, and I’m grateful that you did. Even though I wish it hadn’t resulted in you getting hurt. I’m not angry at you. I’m just...tense. And I apologize for taking it out on you. And for not taking better care of your wound sooner.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he assured her, which was not true at all, but he clearly believed it. He did seem to feel better, at least. “As I told you, I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”

Somehow, that didn’t make her feel much better. Her high from having escaped had faded, and now seemed foolish and premature; Kai had been this badly injured for all those hours they spent in the Library. They should have left earlier so she could take care of him properly. 

“Be that as it may,” she said, endeavoring not to let her anger at herself show through in her voice, “I still need to stitch this up.”

“Fine,” he sighed, sounding petulant again now. Irene was unsure whether that was more or less concerning - On the one hand, if he was complaining, it probably meant that he was feeling somewhat better, from being off his feet if nothing else. But it also made her feel guilty about what she needed to do.

Well. She would probably feel guilty about that regardless, so perhaps it wasn’t fair to attribute any way that he was or wasn’t reacting.

“I don’t have a way to anesthetize this,” she said apologetically, her guilt growing when he hissed in pain at the light pressure she applied to clean the area. Fortunately it was a relatively neat injury, so she didn’t need to spend much time removing any sort of debris. She just had to make sure it was disinfected enough for her to close the skin safely. She’d never been the sort of person who wanted to be sedated or otherwise out of control of her body, assuming she could help it. “Unless you’d like me to get the brandy and allow you to drink yourself unconscious.”

“No.” He sighed. “Let’s just get this over with as soon as possible.” For a moment she thought he was saying that out of fear, wanting to just face the pain and be done with it, but then he added, “I want to take a look at your injuries too.”

“There’s really no need,” she said, but she was resigned; there was no way Kai was going to let her off the hook without at least checking her burns. “Get ready,” she added before he could say anything. The needle was single-use and already sterile, so all she had to do was wait for him to nod before she began. 

A sharp inhale and a tensing of his abdomen was the only indication he felt any pain. She still worked as quickly as possible, though, not wanting to prolong it more than necessary. 

“You’re--good at this,” he said, a little stilted. 

“Practice,” she muttered, focused on her task. 

“On whom?” he asked. Perhaps he wanted conversation to distract himself. He’d indicated many times that he felt less pain than a human, but that didn’t mean being stabbed repeatedly with a needle wasn’t still awful. 

“Myself, mostly,” she said. 

“Irene,” he said sternly, as if he was one to lecture about having medical work done professionally. 

“Hospitals are rarely an option for Librarians,” she said. “Hold still.”

“I am holding still.” She could practically hear the pout in his voice. “I unfortunately still need to _breathe_.” 

“You’re doing it rather dramatically,” she informed him. 

“I was unaware I could inhale and exhale _dramatically_ ,” he said, definitely still being dramatic. He sounded more relaxed, though, so clearly the distraction was working. 

“Everything you do is dramatic,” said Irene, deftly tying off a stitch and then starting another. If she’d had actual medical training, she would have been able to do a continuous line. But as she had only ever pretended to be a nurse for a cover, it was safer to stick to interrupted sutures. The last thing she wanted was to cause him an infection or an unnecessarily dramatic scar. 

All at once, with that last thought, it dawned on her that this could have political implications. She’d nearly managed to forget about Li Ming being tasked with keeping watch over him, what with the threat to the Library as a whole. Now she wondered if this would turn out to be the thing that led to Kai being removed from his post, to her losing him. It was bad enough that he’d been injured, but now she was performing amateur medical care on top of it. 

She paused, looking up at him. “Perhaps we _should_ go to a hospital. What do you think?”

“No,” he said immediately, firmly. Then, softer: “Please. There’s no need for a hospital. Really, you’re doing fine. Clearly you’ve had too much practice.” That last part was said with an attempt at humor, a tiny quirk of his mouth, but the fear wouldn’t leave her. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” she confessed, then instantly regretted it; that sounded much too personal, too vulnerable. She should have taken the out, told him some story about a time she’d had to give herself stitches and just kept going. 

Quickly, to try to make it sound at least a little more professional, she added, “I don’t want you to be ordered away from the Library because of this.”

“I won’t be,” he said with complete confidence. “I am asking you to do this. And it’s not as though this alternate is renowned for its medical care.”

He had much more confidence than she did, both in his post and in her wound-care abilities, but this was what he wanted, and she _had_ already begun. She was almost finished, in fact, so she nodded, took a breath, and determinedly finished what she’d started. 

After tying off the final stitch, she examined her work for a moment. It didn’t exactly look professional, but it also didn’t look too amateur-ish, either. It should at least do its job. 

“See?” Kai said, voice only a little tight from pain. “You can’t even tell I was injured.”

“Oh, not at all,” Irene said dryly. She looked pointedly at the blood on his shirt, on the gauze she had just used to clean the wound, and still seeping out a bit around the stitches. That was normal, she knew, and would taper off over time -- or at least it would if he were human. She assumed he would have told her if dragons required any substantially different sort of medical care when in human form. Then again, he hadn’t mentioned being injured at all after his initial dramatic complaints. 

Kai looked down at his abdomen and at all the same things she’d just noted, then shrugged. “As I said. You can’t even tell.”

Irene rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips twitching into a smile despite everything. He had a way of pulling humor out of her when she wouldn’t otherwise have thought it possible. When it _wouldn’t_ have been possible without him. “I need to bandage that.”

“I can do it,” he offered, holding out a hand for the roll of gauze she’d just pulled from the kit. She didn’t miss the way he winced at lifting his arm, though.

“Absolutely not,” said Irene, leaning in to do it. Belatedly it occurred to her that she needed to wrap the bandage all the way around his body and that put her face only inches from his bare chest.

He didn’t tease her about the proximity, for which she was grateful. Not that his teasing, or straightforward propositions, were ever anything less than respectful, nor were they unwelcome. It was quite the opposite, really, which was the problem; being this close to him while he was bare-chested, after he’d just risked his life to save her, still physically _perfect_ aside from the injuries, would make it harder than usual for her to resist him. 

Which he might have realized, and so he was being considerate, as always. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly when she was finished. The sight of the large bandage across his abdomen was less jarring than the gaping wound, but it was still concerning. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “I still have your arm to take care of.”

“My arm’s not as bad,” Kai said immediately. He shifted it as if to demonstrate, then winced. 

“Yes, but that isn’t exactly saying much, is it?” she asked. “Relax, this one shouldn’t need stitches. You’ll be free from my substandard medical care soon enough. Well, until you require bandage changes, of course.”

“ _Nothing_ about you is substandard,” Kai said, with the same vehemence he might have used had it been somebody _else_ insulting her, rather than herself. 

“Kai.” There was something about the way he’d said that last that was making her chest tight. Which was ridiculous, of course. He was being polite, or supportive, or perhaps even seductive again. He was saying what he knew she wanted to hear, a benign sort of manipulation that was not unlike the skills she’d been trying to teach him. Perhaps he’d even learned it from her. Or perhaps not. It was also possible that he could mean it every bit as genuinely as his tone suggested. 

“I mean it,” said Kai, as if he was reading her mind. Or he had just gotten that good at reading her expressions and body language. She wasn’t certain which possibility was more unnerving. Belatedly she realized that she had let one of her hands come to rest on his knee, only noticing now when he covered it with his own, turning it palm-up and lacing their fingers.

Irene searched for words to respond to that and came up blank. All she could think about was the many ways she’d failed in this mission. She thought of Zayanna, dead on the floor of Alberich’s library. Of all the Librarians who’d been his victims before she’d managed to intervene. Of all of those books, burning. 

“Right,” she said, clearing her throat and trying to get back to pragmatics. “Take off your shirt.”

To her surprise, that caused a tiny smirk to appear on Kai’s face. She expected more teasing about trying to get him undressed, but instead he said, “Well...your bedside manner does, perhaps, have some room for improvement.” 

To her even greater surprise, that startled a genuine laugh out of her, and she felt some of the tension between them ease. “Thank goodness. I’d hate to think I was perfect; there’d be no more to learn.” 

“We all have certain burdens to bear,” Kai said solemnly. He began to try to get his shirt off, and Irene’s mood turned somber again. 

It should have been an easy task, considering she’d already unbuttoned it all the way for him. All he had to do was shrug out of it now. But of course, that required bending his arms, moving them at angles that clearly caused pain, no matter how much he was trying to hide it. She immediately regretted telling him to do it.

“Here, let me,” she said quickly, standing so she could take over. 

“I’m fine,” he insisted predictably, though he thankfully let her. She pulled one sleeve off, then carefully maneuvered the other one over his injured arm, trying to do it so he’d have to move as little as possible. He winced anyway. “I am more than used to working through pain.”

Irene paused, catching the implication of that for the first time. She’d heard him say it before, of course, but it had always seemed like bravado before, in part because of his propensity for dramatics with lesser injuries. In fact, if she allowed herself to think about it -- and she’d been trying her hardest _not_ to do that -- this was the first serious physical injury he’d sustained since they’d met. Certainly Venice had been horrific in terms of its emotional toll, but aside from the chaos exposure, he’d been relatively physically unharmed. This was different. And she was fairly certain the statement he’d just made was both true and surprising, given his royal status.

“Do you mean because of your time experimenting with gang life?” she asked casually, resuming her work on his injuries. She had the sense that he wouldn’t be as likely to talk if she put her full attention on it. She did, after all, know a little about the unwillingness of dragons to admit to any experience of weakness. And also of the incredibly unfair pressures their society seemed to put on them.

“Some, yes,” said Kai, hissing through his teeth as she moved his arm a bit so that she could better inspect it. “Though mainly from my training in my father’s court. And my uncle’s.”

“You had to work through injuries while training?” she asked, trying to keep her voice as even as possible. If she let any judgment of draconic practices slip through, he was liable to grow defensive. 

“Much of the training was _about_ continuing to work and fight through injuries,” he said. “Naturally, that required getting injured in the first place, as that’s inevitable in life. It’s required for all royal dragons to be able to withstand a great deal of pain.”

Irene pressed her lips together, staring intently at his arm so she’d have somewhere to level her glare. To think of Kai not only being intentionally injured by his own family, but not even being able to then care for those injuries -- having to undoubtedly _aggravate_ those injuries by continuing to fight or do whatever else with them… Well, it left her with basically nothing to say that wouldn’t offend him. 

“This needs to be cleaned,” she said, finally releasing his arm from her death glare so she could prepare the supplies for that. She took a deep breath as she did, searching for something appropriate to say. “And you are not in training right now, nor are there any tasks left for you to _work through_. So, regardless of your ability to do so, you do not _need to_.”

“Technically,” said Kai, “I _am_ in training right now. Or are you not my teacher any longer?”

Irene had her attention focused on the supplies in the kit, on dousing another gauze pad in antiseptic and digging around for forceps. The wound on his abdomen had been blessedly clean, but this one had some debris -- metal shards, it appeared -- still buried in it. She was in the process of wondering whether that had something to do with the anatomy of his wings being different from his belly when what he’d just said sunk in.

She looked back up abruptly. “Yes, of course I’m still your teacher. And you are still my student. I meant that this is different from draconic training. The Library is more humane, from what I know of it and from what you’ve told me.”

“Is it?” he asked, hissing again as she dug out the first piece of shrapnel. He didn’t pull away, though. “You’d know better than I would, but you must know there are plenty of stories about students being seen as expendable. And need I remind you that it was just suggested _you_ be used as bait for Alberich?”

That made her pause again; though she tried to resume her work before he noticed, she was certain he did. “You have a point,” she admitted rather reluctantly. She liked to think that she was objective about the Library -- or at least as objective as anyone could be about their own upbringing. She had criticized the Library plenty, after all, and was well aware that it had plenty of faults. But she couldn’t deny the instinctive urge to defend the Library that rose up when _someone else_ pointed out those faults. 

She understood where Kai’s defensiveness came from. She could point out that the Library had good reasons for all of those things, but then couldn’t he say the same of dragons? 

Kai winced again as she continued fishing out the pieces of shrapnel stuck in his wound, but otherwise didn’t let on that he felt any pain. Though she didn’t think much of the way he had been trained, he would probably point out that it clearly worked. 

“Well, regardless,” she said, after a few minutes of silence had passed and she had finally finished removing the debris from his wound. “I will certainly never want you to deal with pain unnecessarily. And my original point was that right now you do not need to.” 

“Aside from right now, of course,” said Kai. He attempted to smile, but it ended up looking more like a grimace. The wound on his arm had started bleeding again with the shrapnel removed, though fortunately nowhere near as quickly as the one on his abdomen had been. Nevertheless, a little rivulet of blood was starting to make its way down toward his elbow, turning her stomach not because she was the least bit squeamish but because it was yet another sign of how badly he’d gotten hurt protecting _her_. “I don’t suppose you’d approve of my knocking your hand away or passing out before you’d finished that.”

“I wouldn’t, no,” she agreed, but winced all the same, the guilt tightening her stomach further. She had been fully focused on stopping the bleeding because she’d thought _that_ was the reason he was pale, the reason he’d looked like he might be on the verge of going into shock. But if it truly was that painful -- not at all difficult to believe, having seen how nasty the injuries were -- and he’d been trying to hide it, then perhaps she should have offered him painkillers first. Or water, at the very least. No, scratch that. Brandy was _much_ more fitting for this type of situation. 

“I would approve of you taking something for the pain, though,” she said, quickly wiping up the blood trickling down his arm. 

Kai was already shaking his head. “I don’t want to prolong the process. But if it will make you feel better, I’ll take something when we’re done.”

“The point is to make _you_ feel better,” she said with a sigh. Apparently the best way of accomplishing that at the moment, though, was to get this finished as quickly as possible, so she set to work cleaning the rest of the wound. She would ply him with either pills or alcohol after; he didn’t deserve to suffer through the pain. 

This injury was thankfully a lot easier to bandage than his abdomen had been, and didn’t require her to torture herself with close proximity to his bare chest. Though his arms were also very nice. 

“Done,” she said, sticking down the end of the wrap. Being face to face with his bandaged wounds was, at least, a little bit less heart-wrenching than staring at his _open_ wounds, but the guilt was hard to shake, and probably would be for a while. “Now: medicine or alcohol?” 

Kai shook his head. “I haven’t taken care of your injuries yet, so we’re not done.” 

“I told you I’m fine,” she grumbled, though in truth she was beginning to feel increasingly tired and sore as the adrenaline faded yet again. She couldn’t entirely remember the last time she’d eaten or slept, and her head _definitely_ knew that she’d been making ambitious use of the Language on top of it. Also, the burns that she’d been studiously ignoring were beginning to make themselves known, her nerve endings demanding attention. She had to admit that she _might_ be downplaying her current state in the same way Kai had done with his injuries. So she supposed she could acknowledge his right to want to help her, just as she had done for him. Even _if_ she was supposed to be the one in charge here.

“Nevertheless,” said Kai, “I’m going to make sure of that for myself. Not that I don’t trust you, you understand.”

She attempted to glare at him and failed. “But you are aware that neither of us is particularly good at admitting to injuries. Or any sort of weakness.”

He nodded. “And yet we always tell each other that admitting it is all right.”

Irene offered him a wry smile. “Perhaps we ought to listen to one another more. So, tell me what you want me to do.”

“Get comfortable,” he said, moving over on the couch to make more room for her, and bending down to grab the first aid kit off the floor. “And tell me everywhere you’re hurt, aside from the places I can see for myself.” 

She couldn’t exactly get comfortable as she watched him wince as he bent. “Kai--” 

“I’m all right, I promise,” he said, somehow knowing that she was concerned for him. He straightened back up with the kit in his lap. She supposed she should be grateful that he hadn’t decided to give up the couch entirely and kneel in front of her as she had done, but that also more or less confirmed her hypothesis that he was in more pain than he was letting on. “Please, tell me.” 

She sighed, and once again figured that the quickest way to help him was to acquiesce and let _him_ help _her_. 

Looking herself over properly for the first time since escaping into the Library, she was relieved that she had far fewer injuries than Kai was probably suspecting. Sure, she was definitely going to be bruised, probably all over, and her clothing was singed in places, but there was no dripping blood or gaping wounds or sharp pains that indicated broken bones. Truly, she was lucky to have escaped as unharmed as she had. 

“Irene?” he pressed, and she realized abruptly that she had been silent for a long while -- Time was feeling rather amorphous again, her head spinning a bit. She was certain he thought she was avoiding the question -- which was fair since she _had_ been doing just that. Now, though, she was just...slightly lost.

“Here,” she told him finally, indicating what she thought was the worst of the burns, a patch on her upper arm and shoulder where the fabric of her dress was blackened and sticking to the wound. There was a burn on her neck as well, though somehow the neckline of her bodice had managed to stay intact without offering her any protection at all. Cursing women’s fashion for hardly the first time, she indicated that one as well. “And -- I think that’s all? Or the worst of it? I’m not -- entirely sure.”

He narrowed his eyes, taking her in with more concern. She probably should have taken that as a sign that her control was slipping, that she needed to do something to maintain authority and professionalism. But right now, the idea of letting him take the lead for a moment was feeling increasingly tempting.

“You’re not sure?” he asked skeptically. 

“I--well, I may have some minor bruises,” she hedged. “So I suppose it depends on what kind of injuries we’re talking about. I _am_ sure that these burns are the only ones I have that require any sort of...care. There’s not much to be done for bruises, you know.”

“All right,” Kai said slowly, still eyeing her like a broken bone might suddenly appear out of nowhere, or one of her limbs might fall off entirely. “Let me get a closer look.” Then he was bending towards her, his face so close to hers she could have counted his eyelashes if she was one of those fanciful types of heroines, which she absolutely was not. “Move your hair.”

She did, sweeping it to the side so he could more clearly see the one on her shoulder, and the one higher up on her neck. He inhaled sharply. 

“Irene!” he said, aghast. “These look awful. I can’t believe you’ve had these for hours without doing anything about them!”

“You had a _gaping wound_ in your abdomen,” she reminded him. “It required _stitches_ , Kai. You’re hardly one to talk.”

“At least you knew about those,” he pointed out, a reminder that made her feel even worse about it. Perhaps he saw something on her face, because he softened immediately. “I can’t dress this one through your clothes. Can you lower the top of your bodice or do you want to cut around it?”

She blinked at him, the words sinking in slowly. She didn’t _think_ she was in any sort of dangerous shock, but she _was_ exhausted and the fact that he was still close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek was _not_ helping. She had to acknowledge that he had a point, though: the ruined fabric of her dress was singed and melted into the skin around the burns in a way that made them impossible to clean or dress. And though it might have been the simpler or even more proper thing to do, she couldn’t bring herself to accept the idea of a knife anywhere near such a painful spot. Besides, his expression was one of pure concern, not even a hint of the smug seductiveness she was coming to know so well.

“I’ll take it down,” she said decisively, then winced as her attempt to reach behind herself caused a protest from her shoulder. She was accustomed to using the aid of the Language in situations like this, and had used it near-constantly as her hands had healed from her first confrontation with Alberich.

But this time, Kai spoke before she had the chance to construct a specific enough command. “Let me.”

She had the fleeting thought that she could use the Language anyway to do it herself, could preserve that part of her dignity; but it was such a short-lived thought that it hardly counted. Her head still throbbed from all the Language she’d had to use already, and if she thought too hard about what she’d had to do with it, she’d definitely start crying. 

She nodded. Kai reached behind her and, very gently, began undoing the laces on the back of her dress, just enough to loosen the top so she could slide her arm free. She had to hold the front to her chest as she did, biting her lip to keep from crying out as the charred fabric pulled from her burn. It stung something awful, but she’d take the physical pain right now as a distraction. 

“I’ll have to clean this,” Kai said regretfully. 

Irene nodded again, already clenching her teeth in preparation. Thankfully, since she still had one arm in her dress, she didn’t have to keep holding onto the front of it to keep it up; this allowed her to dig her fingers into the sofa cushion while Kai carefully cleaned out her wound, and was probably the only thing that kept her from screaming. Gods, this part was worse than the actual burn. 

Kai paused in his work, evidently noticing her reaction despite her efforts to hide it, to remain stoic as he had been. Perhaps she hadn’t been raised to withstand injuries as he had, but she _did_ have decades of experience with field assignments that were often less than comfortable. Still, Kai knew her better than most -- just about anyone, if she was being honest with herself -- so probably it shouldn’t have been a surprise. She’d just made the point that she could tell when _he_ was in pain, after all.

“Did _you_ want something for the pain now?” he asked, his tone mirroring the horror she’d felt earlier upon realizing she hadn’t offered that consideration to him. “Of the pill or alcohol variety.”

Irene shook her head, determined to remain alert for as long as possible despite the exhaustion and pain. It was because she had to make sure that Kai was all right, she told herself, that it was still possible he might go into shock or otherwise need her help. It definitely wasn’t because she was afraid of any dreams she might have. “No. Let’s just finish this.”

“All right,” said Kai, but he didn’t immediately resume cleaning the wound. Instead she felt his fingers brush against her back and realized that he was seeing her Library brand for the first time.

She shivered, the skin there extra sensitive from all the use she’d gotten out of the Language today. The nearly reverent look on Kai’s face certainly wasn’t helping the sensitivity. Heat rose rapidly in her cheeks, and she wasn’t sure whether it was from Kai’s touch or the sudden, vivid reminder of the incident with Vale, when she’d shown _him_ her brand. 

She’d been trying to avoid thinking of that since it happened, but the shame of it consistently welled up inside of her, as all of the most embarrassing memories were wont to do. As much as she would like to write the whole thing off as an unfortunate consequence of being sucked into Vale’s narrative, as he nearly succumbed to his Fae blood and the chaos inside of him, she knew deep down that that was only part of it.

As she looked at Kai, as he gingerly pulled his fingers away from her skin but remained close, affection and _heat_ in his eyes, she had to admit that -- amazingly, somehow -- Vale would have been the _safer_ option for her. If she was truly having these feelings for Vale, rather than Kai, it would be so much _easier_. But Vale wasn’t the one here right now, wasn’t the one touching her with so much tenderness. And Vale _wasn’t_ the one she was having feelings for. She could lean into Kai’s touch, could initiate more, could take him up on his frequent offers, could actually _do_ something about the way he was looking at her.

Vale was human -- or at least mostly -- and while his estranged family might have some status, he absolutely _wasn’t_ royalty. Taking Vale to bed would come with far fewer complications, far fewer potential consequences. But most of all -- and perhaps most attractive of all -- he was unavailable. Late-night chaos-and-morphine-fueled impulses aside, she _knew_ how Vale’s affection for her differed from Kai’s. 

Almost as if sensing her thoughts -- which Irene increasingly felt he actually _could_ do -- Kai shook himself and let his hand fall back to his side. “Sorry. I’ve just -- never seen one before.”

Irene cleared her throat and nodded, seizing on the change of subject. “It’s an impressive mark, isn’t it? They all are, I mean, not just mine specifically. I remember that as a child, I would ask to see my mother’s and dream about having my own.”

“And now you do,” said Kai, his smile warm.

Irene nodded. “Perhaps someday, you will too.” She was coming to doubt that more and more, though, a thought she tried to avoid as much as possible.

Kai looked away as if on cue. “Are you ready for me to finish cleaning this?”

“Yes,” she said, eager to get the focus back on her wounds so she could stop thinking along such painful lines. What was _wrong_ with her brain? Was it trying to come up with all the most harmful thoughts it could? Was it in some sort of sick competition with her body to see which could hurt her the most? Next thing she knew, she was going to be thinking about all of those books she’d destroyed again...all of those unique, one-of-a-kind books… Then she would start thinking about what Alberich said, how two Librarians couldn’t have children, about what that had to mean for her own parents if it was true -- 

Then Kai was pouring antiseptic onto her arm and she sucked in air through her teeth. 

“Sorry,” he said, eyes focused on her arm, and using a cloth to pick up the trails of liquid, both blood and antiseptic, now dripping from her burn. “It seemed the most expedient way to clean it.” 

“Don’t apologize,” she said. She bit her lip and tilted her head skyward, finding it easier to breathe through the pain that way. “You’re right.” Besides, if she hadn’t been so lost in her thoughts, she would have noticed what was coming. Point: brain. 

"I still don't like hurting you," he insisted. He finished with cleaning her arm and moved on to the spot on her neck, which required him to lean even closer to her. Their shoulders were practically pressed together now, and even though she was in pain, she was still acutely aware of the heat of his body. 

"I just put a needle through your skin without giving you so much as an aspirin," she pointed out, the guilt at those words small in comparison to the hope that it would make him feel better. 

"As I've told you, I have a very high pain tolerance." He was finished cleaning the burns and moved on to bandaging them, making quick, precise work of it. 

When that was done, he helped her back into the top of her dress, lacing it loosely. It was still clearly ruined, would need to be changed and discarded, but at least her brand wasn't exposed anymore. 

She took a breath and blew it out slowly. "All right. Brandy for sure. Would you like any more traditional painkillers?"

He shook his head. "No. Brandy will suffice."

“I’ll be right back,” she said, standing. “Wait here.” She was still far more concerned about his injuries than her own. 

Thankfully, he didn’t attempt to follow her. His lips did quirk up slightly as he said, “Yes, madam,” but she would allow that bit of exertion. 

She went into the kitchen to grab the ‘medicine,’ thankful that it gave her a moment alone to gather herself. Being so close to Kai, after coming so frightfully close to losing him, to losing _everything_ , was straining her reserve far more than usual. Just when she thought she was getting a handle on things… 

She poured two generous glasses of brandy, then tossed her head back and downed one in a single swallow; liquid courage, as the cliche went, though in her case she was hoping for liquid _get my brain to shut the hell up_. That had far less of a ring to it, though. 

After refilling the empty glass, she grabbed both and walked back out to the lounge, where Kai was still sitting on the sofa. Something in her chest relaxed at the sight of him there, and she realized she’d again been half-expecting him to disappear once he was out of her sight. 

He was looking at her strangely. Perhaps he’d had the same fear. 

"A painkiller as requested," said Irene, handing the second glass to him. 

He took it and sipped, looking at her over the rim of it. His gaze was still oddly intense, filled with the same longing and heat that she’d felt when he’d touched her brand. Damn it, the brandy was supposed to do _away_ with those thoughts. Tipping her head back, Irene downed her second glass in another single swallow, though it was much larger than a single shot and it made her eyes tear a bit.

“Are you all right?” Kai was frowning at her when her vision cleared again.

She bit back a snide remark about his propensity to ask that when she was drinking. It was a fair question given everything they’d just been through, including the injuries they’d just bandaged for each other. And, if she was being honest, she _wasn’t_ truly all right. “I’m fine. I should go and change.”

“Wait,” said Kai, as she turned toward her bedroom.

He’d put his glass down when she looked back and was standing only a few inches away. He met her gaze for a long moment, then abruptly pulled her into a hug.

She made a soft sound of surprise but her arms rose to hug him back. His arms tightened around her, and then it was as if every muscle in her body relaxed without her giving conscious permission for them to do so. She couldn’t deny the pure relief that coursed through her at being able to hold him like this, and she suspected he felt the same. She felt safe in his arms in a way she never had before, a way she didn’t care to analyze too closely. 

“I thought I was never going to see you again,” Kai said, voice quiet but rough, breath brushing over her shoulder. “I thought you were going off to your _death_ , Irene.” 

“I’m sorry,” she breathed. She closed her eyes, as much to absorb the comfort of his embrace as to shut out the pain practically radiating off of him. She thought of how worried she would have been had their positions been reversed; how worried she had actually been when it _was_ him, kidnapped by Fae. “I’m sorry, Kai. Thank you for coming for me.”

“Always,” he vowed. There was such strength in his voice, in his arms, that she actually believed him. 

He released her after a long moment, and she cursed herself for missing his warmth already. He kept his hands on her arms though and looked at her, so many emotions swirling in his eyes that she couldn’t look away. There was a promise in them, of protection and care, but also of more to be said later, a conversation he’d vowed they would have. There were likely even more promises she couldn’t discern, yet somehow she knew he would keep every one of them.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one also takes place post 3!

Irene was an absolute master at moving silently -- most of the time, at least. It probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise, given what Kai knew of her skills and all he’d seen of her work in the field. Still, he’d thought that his draconic senses and his familiarity with her would prove superior. He’d obviously been overly confident about that, though, because she’d managed to evade him each of the past three nights, at least judging by the fact that he’d woken up each morning stiff and a bit sore on the sofa in the lounge, without having seen her.

Kai knew that she was having nightmares -- or perhaps ‘suspected’ was a more accurate word for it, as he hadn’t managed to talk to her about them yet. But he recognized the signs all the same: He could see the exhaustion in her eyes no matter how well she tried to hide it, could see the tension in her posture and the way that she moved. All of it was painfully similar to what he’d been experiencing after Venice and he wanted nothing more than to return the support she’d given to him. 

She was clearly much better at this than he was, though. Perhaps he should have chosen to wait in the kitchen, like she had. Then he would have been less liable to fall asleep before he could actually catch her awake, which he _knew_ she had been, despite not having actually seen her himself. There was evidence that she’d gotten a new book in the middle of the night, or a snack, or sometimes both. If he’d waited in the kitchen he could probably have caught her at it already, but sitting in the kitchen chair for a long period of time made his newly-stitched abdomen ache; and though he could bear that pain if he had to, he knew Irene would not be pleased if she found out, and that could derail the entire conversation he wanted to have. 

So in the lounge he remained, where he could lean back subtly on the very sofa where she’d stitched him up. It made it difficult for him not to fall asleep, but tonight he had a foolproof plan: he’d chosen a book to read that Irene had once described to him as a ‘page-turner,’ one that had kept her up for most of a night in order to finish reading it. If it engrossed her so, hopefully it would do the same for him, and he wouldn’t be _able_ to sleep. 

He also had a bottle of brandy with him tonight and two glasses on a tray. That was a new addition tonight too, and it was also a strategic one: He had the suspicion that brandy was one of the things Irene had been getting up in the middle of the night to fetch. It _was_ much more her style than his preferred tea, he had to admit. He had nothing against brandy or any other form of alcohol. It was just that alcoholic beverages produced by humans did next to nothing for him unless he drank so much of them that he felt ill from the volume alone. 

As it turned out, the brandy was the most successful part of his plan. The book _was_ excellent, as mystery novels went. He could absolutely understand why Irene had found it impossible to put down. Unfortunately, he didn't find detective fiction as highly engrossing as she did. Probably he should have chosen some form of poetry, or perhaps an art history text. It also didn't help that he’d been staying up so much lately, or that his injuries were still requiring a substantial amount of energy for healing. 

As it was, he managed to doze off despite his best intentions. Fortunately, he came awake to the clink of glasses as Irene attempted to remove the bottle of brandy from the tray in the dark. 

His eyes snapped open and met hers. “You are hoarding all the brandy,” she informed him. 

He blinked up at her, momentarily disoriented. He had rehearsed so many ways to begin this conversation once he finally caught her up, but now of course all of them had flown from his brain. Irene was once again looking ethereally beautiful in the candle light, face above his as she was standing and he was mostly sitting. She was in her dressing gown, her hair down, the light of the candles playing off of her jawline; it was quite distracting. 

“It was for you,” he said at last, about the brandy. 

Her eyebrows went up. “Were you planning to wait here with it until morning to offer me breakfast?” 

Kai was fairly certain she _knew_ what he’d actually been trying to do, but was going to make him say it. He figured he might as well oblige; it wasn’t as though he’d been planning on lying about it, anyway. “I suspected you’ve been awake in the middle of the night lately.”

Indeed, she did not appear surprised. She merely made a noncommittal noise as she poured herself a glass and said, “Would you like some?” 

He spared a thought that this was not how this was supposed to go. _He_ was supposed to be offering _her_ the drink, leading the conversation as she had done when she’d caught him awake from nightmares. It shouldn’t have surprised him that she’d manage to turn the tables, though. “Yes, please.”

Irene picked up the glass she’d poured for herself, considered it for a moment, then downed it in a single swallow. 

Kai opened his mouth, then closed it again. He’d seen her do that plenty of times, usually while they were in the field and had just achieved some sort of narrow escape or other high-adrenaline situation. He knew that she could handle her liquor and also that she tended to use it to steady her nerves when she didn't want to show or discuss her emotions. That was fair: He could empathize with the unpleasantness of having others witness emotional vulnerability. He even suspected that there were aspects of Irene’s upbringing that were similar to his own in that regard. True, she wasn't a dragon and said that she hadn't been subjected to training as harsh as what had been expected of him. But he had also seen how the Library treated students and could only imagine what it would have been like to grow up in that environment. Not to mention the fact that she had yet to contact her parents since they'd been back in Vale’s world, despite the obvious worry he’d seen in her over Alberich’s threats. 

"What?" she asked, catching him staring at her, lost in thought. She was still holding her empty glass. 

He shrugged. "That doesn't appear to have been for me."

“Oh,” she said, as if she genuinely forgot that she’d offered some to him less than a minute ago. His concern for her only increased; she must be quite preoccupied, as she normally had the sharpest mind he knew. “I was getting to that.” That was definitely a lie, though she did actually pour two glasses this time. 

She held out one of the glasses towards him and he took it. This was the part where he was supposed to _help_ her, he thought, at a loss for how to actually do so. Start small, he supposed. “Would you like to sit down?” He gestured to the empty spot on the sofa next to him. 

She didn’t answer but she did sit down with a sigh, then looked at him expectantly as she drank her brandy more slowly this time. 

“You’re having nightmares,” he said, figuring he might as well start with the obvious. It wasn’t as if there was any way she hadn’t already figured out that he suspected. 

“What makes you think that?” she asked, not meeting his eyes. 

“You’re acting just as I did when I was having them,” he said. Using the past tense regarding his own nightmares wasn’t honest, strictly speaking, but his had at least decreased in frequency enough to sleep, unlike hers. “And you’re so tense I’m afraid you might shatter.”

“That’s overdramatic,” she informed him, but otherwise didn’t deny it. 

Kai arched an eyebrow. "All right, I suppose that's fair. Far be it from me to think you made of anything so fragile as glass."

"I would prefer stone," said Irene. "But a cliff or a bolder, not some delicate statue."

He shook his head. "Water erodes stone, you know."

She took a sip of her brandy, regarding him with narrowed eyes over the rim of the glass. "Steel, then. Or iron."

"Steel contains iron," Kai pointed out, then chastised himself for it. The idea was to get her to open up, not irritate her with pedantry he'd picked up from one of his recent reads on architecture. "More importantly, water also erodes metal, given enough time."

Irene sighed and took a pointedly larger gulp of brandy, then poured herself a third glass. "What _isn't_ eroded by water, then?"

He considered. "Well, more water, I suppose."

"And you're water in this metaphor?" Her hands were the subtlest bit unsteady on her glass. "Because if you try to tell me that you've never been self-destructive…"

"I'm surprised you didn't first take issue with the idea that I'd be implying I could erode whatever _you_ are made of." He took a sip of his own drink, mostly for punctuation. "If I were to be water in this metaphor, of course."

"Is that what you're doing?" she asked, a hint of challenge in her voice. 

He smiled, pleased with where he'd managed to steer this conversation. "Only your defenses."

She gave him a look that was trying very hard not to be amused. “This metaphor may have gotten away from us,” she said, then took another drink. 

Plain speech then, he decided. “You helped me after...Venice.” He still couldn’t bring himself to refer to it as anything other than that; even the name of the place tightened his chest with fury and plenty of other emotions he didn’t wish to name. So, perhaps it wasn’t completely plain speech, but that wasn’t the point. “And we said just a few days ago that we should listen when we want to help each other. So I want to help you, too.” 

She sighed, like she’d been caught, and sank farther into the couch. “I appreciate the thought, but I don’t see how you can stop my nightmares, Kai.”

“Talking to you helped me,” he said. He’d never been able to talk to anybody like he had with her; he’d never been so openly weak in front of anyone… He’d never had anyone care enough to want him to in the first place. He watched her carefully, hating how worn and stressed and _exhausted_ she looked, and thought that he would do anything it took to help her. 

“There’s not much to talk about,” she said, which he was sure was untrue. 

“I could at least help you relax, then,” he said. The tense way she was carrying herself truly was worrying him, even if he didn’t _actually_ think she would physically shatter. 

"The brandy is doing that," she pointed out, taking another drink. 

She was already halfway through her third glass, and none of them had been light pours. She didn't seem any more relaxed, though, or really affected much at all, which made him wonder about her tolerance and how it had gotten that high. Come to think of it, he'd never seen her drunk and couldn't imagine that she'd find it either strategic or enjoyable, not to mention proper. She was far too focused on maintaining control of herself and her situation to risk drunken ramblings or confessions of personal details. Perhaps it would even be better if she _could_ allow herself that sort of release right now. It might make her feel better and gods knew, he’d keep her confidences. 

"I don't think the brandy is going to make your right shoulder stop hurting," he pointed out, giving her a knowing look. 

He saw the way that she shifted almost imperceptibly in surprise. She clearly hadn't expected him to know where she was in pain. "How do you know that my right shoulder hurts in the first place?"

"For one," said Kai, "it's where you landed when I caught you. I know that had to be rough. And for another, you've been guarding it for days when you move."

She glared at him half-heartedly before sighing. “You are too perceptive for my own good sometimes.” 

It took a real effort to resist the urge to break into a grin with pride; a compliment from Irene, especially a compliment regarding something _she_ was so good at, was truly valuable. “I am learning from the best.” 

“Has Vale been giving you formal lessons?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. Her deflection skills were also truly unparalleled. 

“I meant you,” Kai said, though he was aware she knew that. 

She just shook her head; she never knew what to do with compliments. “All right, so my shoulder has been sore,” she said at last. That was also sort of a deflection, Kai supposed, from the compliment, but it got back to the original point, so he was going to consider that a victory. 

“I also learned massage from some of the best,” he informed her, tone level. Regardless, she pursed her lips and looked at him hesitantly, and he knew what she was thinking. “I meant nothing sexual by the offer, I assure you. Purely a shoulder massage, to help loosen your muscles. I have done it for others.” Though he had never been so eager to help any of those others as he was for Irene. She was clearly reluctant to accept any kind of help, though, so he added, “It would mean not having to talk as much.” 

"Not _having to_?" she pressed, arching an eyebrow. She was being evasive again and he knew it, but he couldn't help being momentarily distracted by the way the shadows were casting her cheekbones and jaw into sharp relief. Her eyes were the slightest bit glassy from the alcohol, or the lack of sleep, or probably some combination of both. She looked almost inhuman, far older -- though not in any sort of mortal way -- and far wiser than her already-considerable experience. "What is this, an interrogation?"

He suppressed the urge to sigh. There was a part of him that wanted to take her by the shoulders and command her to accept his help. He would never do that, of course, but it remained a powerful draconic instinct. She had been patient with him, in spite of his own evasiveness, and he would do no less for her. "A conversation, I hope. With my friend."

Irene narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, you _are_ getting to be manipulative." Her tone was irritated on the surface, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of pride. 

"An important skill for a future Librarian," said Kai, laying the charm on thick. "And I am learning from the best."

“So you’ve said,” she grumbled. He didn’t think he was imagining the slight flush to her cheeks; though that could, again, be due to the alcohol. 

“Weren’t you the one who said recently that we should listen to each other more?” he said, pressing his advantage. “Regarding admitting when we need help?” 

“I recall that being about physical injuries,” she said, but he could tell she was relenting. “And I admitted that my shoulder hurts.” 

“Then you will accept my help?” he asked, though it was a bit too firm to really be a question. 

“I did walk into that,” Irene sighed, but she _definitely_ sounded more than a little impressed. He tried not to openly beam with pride. “Fine, I will accept your help with my shoulder. Though we don’t exactly have a spa set up here.” 

“That’s hardly necessary for a shoulder massage,” he said. “Though if you wanted more…” 

“Kai,” she said warningly. 

He winked; he’d been mostly teasing, which she likely knew. “Turn to face away from me.” 

She did so warily, gripping her glass of brandy as if it were a security blanket. Her legs remained over the edge of the couch, so she couldn’t completely face away from him, but it would do. 

“Relax,” he said gently, putting his hands on her shoulders. She’d noticeably stiffened, probably with nerves, but he would take care of that. 

"I am relaxed," said Irene, still tense under his hands. She sounded genuine, though, and though Kai knew that she was an excellent liar, he didn't think she was right now. Instead he found himself with the terrible thought that she truly didn't notice the tension in her own muscles because she was so used to living this way. 

"Perhaps emotionally," he conceded, though he didn't truly believe that to be the case either. He just knew that he needed to give Irene an out if he wanted her to continue listening to him and accepting his help. Her defenses were often frustrating, but he couldn't truly fault her since he understood them. "But there is still a great deal of tension in your muscles. If you focus on mentally scanning your body, can you feel it?"

"That’s what happens to humans with --" She paused, hesitating a bit. She'd no doubt realized that he wouldn't like what she’d been about to say and was having to redirect. "Well, not precisely injuries. Not major ones. But bruises. It's what happens when humans fight inhuman forces, Kai. You know I don't have your physique."

"I do know," said Kai, "which is why I'm going to help you with it now." He ran his hands gently over her shoulders, not massaging yet, just feeling out the most tender spots. 

“This doesn’t feel very much like a-- _oh_!” She cut herself off once he started digging into her muscles, which made him smirk. He was only working on the uninjured shoulder for the moment, wanting to ease her into it, but that had definitely been a good sound. She was still ridiculously tense there, though; he wondered if she’d ever truly allowed herself to relax. 

He kept his focus on that shoulder for a little longer before he finally began massaging the sore one. He started very gently, but even so, Irene sucked in a sharp breath between her teeth. “Is it too much?” 

“No, no,” she said quickly. Her grip on her brandy glass had tightened, and he could see her work to loosen it. “It’s fine. Keep going.” 

The fact that she wanted him to continue was going to count as a victory, he decided, and obeyed. He massaged slowly, increasing the pressure bit by tiny bit until he was working the muscles in earnest. Irene was biting her lip, obviously trying to hold herself back from making any noise, but every once in a while a moan or a groan would slip out. Heat crept up Kai’s neck in response, and he was suddenly very glad that this required her to be facing away from him. 

He genuinely hadn't meant to imply anything sexual -- or even romantic -- by offering her the massage. In fact, he hadn't even been planning on the massage when he’d decided to wait up for her in the lounge. He’d wanted her to talk, but more than that, he'd just wanted to help and support her. If there was anything at all that he could offer, he would give it to her and then some. 

But the fact that this has started as selfless didn't negate the effect that she had on him. He'd had plenty of lovers before, and hadn't been exaggerating any of the times he'd described his prowess in bed. But few of those partners had been more than casual flings, and the ones that _had_ been more still hadn't lasted longer than a matter of weeks. It was true that he’d always found the idea of a committed relationship romantic despite the fact that it was all but taboo for royal dragons. Even so, he'd never met anyone he'd actually wanted that _with_...until Irene, of course. 

Right now, touching her this way, feeling her muscles ripple and relax under his hands, he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms. 

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Even more than that, he wanted to kiss the nape of her neck. There was also a pretty powerful desire to kiss farther down her back, over the Library brand he’d only seen for the first time a couple days ago. Every inch of her skin was enticing to him, but the contrast there would be fascinating to explore with his lips, with his hands. He could massage her much better without the pesky barrier of clothing in the way, in addition to all the _other_ ways he could help her relax if they were naked. 

He nearly sighed out loud. This longing was not new, but it was particularly intense right now, being so close to her, listening to all the sounds she couldn’t keep in; being able to touch her like this, for much longer than he’d ever been able to before. But now was not the time. Even if she did decide that she wanted to, she was far too emotionally vulnerable right now. She would almost certainly regret it after, which would jeopardize their friendship, something he valued more than anything physical. 

So he kept his mouth shut and worked, focusing almost exclusively on her injured shoulder now that she’d finally relaxed enough. 

“You are--very good at this,” Irene said, the first thing either of them had said for several minutes. The breathy quality to her voice wasn’t helping his situation. 

"I'm glad to hear that," said Kai, trying to keep his tone light and humble. The last thing he wanted was to make this about himself or his skills when his entire goal was to take care of her. That was an adjustment too -- in his father’s court, or even in Ao Shun's, a certain amount of bragging was acceptable or even expected. Dragons were raised to _know_ that they were superior beings, particularly if they were of the royal blood. In his own case, that had limits of course -- superior but tainted. Superior to other beings or races, but never enough for his own kind. 

Irene was silent for another few moments before she spoke again, though she was apparently still on the same train of thought, her tone less focused now. "Seriously. You're good enough to be a professional."

"Have you had many professional massages?" he asked casually, shifting the angle of his hands against her shoulder as some of the tension gave way. 

She inhaled sharply, then relaxed again. "Not many, but some. Practically anything can be used as a cover, you know. Or to get information."

“ _You_ can use anything as a cover,” he said, “or to get information, because you are brilliant.”

He could just discern the faint flush on her cheeks -- or perhaps that was merely a trick of the dim, flickering candlelight. “Does the flattery come free with the massage?” 

“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly. “All of it is free, because you’re my friend. My help will always be free to you, Irene.” 

Her fingers curled a little tighter around her now-empty glass, and her throat worked as she swallowed. He could practically see her turning that statement around in her mind, struggling with the reality of accepting help when she thought she shouldn’t need it. 

“Thank you,” she said, after so long that Kai had thought they might lapse into silence. “It is...helpful. Relaxing.” 

He smiled, pleased with that; he knew how difficult it was for her to say something like that out loud. He was also pleased with the progress he’d made in her shoulder, the muscles of which had loosened considerably. Still, that didn’t stop him from being incredibly worried about her. She had been in clear distress these past few days and he hadn’t been able to do anything to help her. And he’d come so close to losing her… 

“You know,” he said casually, after he’d loosened another knot, “there is something else you could do to help you relax even more.” 

“Is there?” she asked, skepticism clear in her voice and the renewed stiffness in her back. 

“Yes,” he said, turning his touch soothing again to ease her back down. “We could accept Li Ming’s offer to live under his protection.” 

That was a mistake. He knew as he said it, but couldn’t resist doing it anyway -- It wasn’t that he didn’t respect Irene or her ability to be independent and care for herself. On the contrary, his desire to protect her, to give her the very best he was able, was born of the fact that he _did_ respect and care about her very much. It was what younger dragons did for their elders, what trusted servants and advisors did for their kings. But the way Irene had been resisting it, the way she stiffened under his hands now, told him that she didn’t -- _couldn’t_ , perhaps -- understand.

She turned around to face him, the lines of her face harder now, shifted into irritation and defiance from...something softer that he couldn’t quite describe. “Kai. We’ve _talked_ about this. What on earth makes you think my answer’s changed?”

“Well,” said Kai, “you _did_ just find yourself personally targeted by Alberich. I don’t just mean the Library as a whole. I mean _you_.” He instantly regretted saying that too, remembering that she’d been having nightmares, most likely about that same subject. “I just thought -- some additional protection might now be welcome.”

“Alberich is dead,” Irene said stiffly.

“And there are innumerable other dangers out there,” he said, making such a concerted effort not to sound as worried as he felt that he was fairly certain he ended up sounding stiff and overly formal. 

“Yes,” she replied, utterly unmoved. “Just as there have been the entire time I’ve been a Librarian, and as there always will be.” 

She’d shaken his hands off completely now, so he held them clasped in his lap. He had clearly miscalculated when he’d thought this would be a good time to bring up the issue again, but it was out now, and there was nothing he could do to take it back. Might as well go all in, he supposed. “Is that a reason not to accept an offer of more safety when one comes along? Simply because the danger existed before?” 

She was all but glaring at him now. He’d faced down such looks from his elders before, even his own father, and yet it took all of the willpower he had not to be cowed in the face of Irene’s. “I have told you my reasons,” she said firmly. “A Librarian accepting that kind of help from a dragon -- a _royal_ dragon, no less, as the help comes indirectly from your uncle -- would compromise our neutrality. There is no amount of danger that would make such a thing worth it.”

Kai couldn't help stiffening at that, though he knew very well that she meant no offense either to his uncle or to him. He _knew_ that her primary loyalty was to the Library, that even her parents were a part of that, so it wasn't as though she had to consider family versus her position. On the face of it, her situation seemed so much simpler than his. And yet he wanted a part of her loyalty for himself, he realized. That was what it came down to. He wanted what he was offering to matter. He wanted her to want it -- no, _him_ \-- even at risk to her status at the Library. It was completely irrational, but he was completely unable to move past it. Fortunately he had plenty of experience in being passed over, in being secondary to other people and things. 

"I understand," he somehow managed to say evenly. It had never seemed clearer than in this moment that he needed to stop pushing this particular offer, that he was going to lose her trust if he didn't. He just wasn't certain what he could offer her if she didn't want this. Certainly she deserved more than anything he could offer on his own, which had made resources backed by his family attractive...from his perspective, at least. "I apologize. You've made your answer clear. I won't mention it again."

“Thank you,” she said, in the tone that meant she was immensely relieved to be done with this. Or so he thought; she seemed to be examining his face, and whatever she found there caused her glare to relax, her shoulders to slump slightly. It was as though she read something in his face that caused a shift. “Kai. It’s not as though I don’t appreciate the offer. You know that, right? If it were me on my own, without the Library to consider, I would be honored to take you up on it.”

A glimmer of hope alighted in his chest, and he looked at her in wonder. “Do you really mean that?” he asked, trying not to sound too urgent. Of course, there was a good chance she was only saying that to placate him, because she could see that he was hurt by her refusal. 

She sighed, but also put her hand on his arm. “Yes, of course. This isn’t about what _I_ want or don’t want. It’s about what I, as a Librarian, am able to accept. I understand that it’s not an offer you, or Li Ming, or your uncle, would extend lightly, and I am grateful. It’s simply that I cannot accept it.” 

“Of course,” he replied, as if it had been obvious the entire time, and he hadn’t been devastated by her refusal, which was an unacceptably irrational response of him in the first place. Irene had _said_ she was refusing because of the Library, and here he had gone and taken it personally. He would simply need to find something else to offer her, something she could actually accept. 

"I _am_ curious, though," she said after a moment, before he'd managed to compose himself again or come up with a new topic of conversation. "Before -- well, Venice -- you seemed...displeased with the idea of your family knowing where you lived in this alternate. You didn't even like the idea of them being able to contact you."

"Yes…" Kai retrieved his forgotten glass from the table and drained the rest of the brandy in a single swallow, ironically the exact thing he so often disapproved of Irene doing. His hand shook the smallest bit, he realized, and silently admonished himself. He was not supposed to be the one in need of emotional support right now. Still, he didn't enjoy thinking about his imprisonment or about the ways in which his family could interfere, could take away the tenuous happiness he was beginning to find for… _the first time in his life_ felt dramatic even for him, but there it was. 

"If you're afraid of what their influence could mean for your life and your position with the Library," said Irene, "then why would you want to live under their protection? Is it because you're concerned that I can't protect you after your kidnapping? Because if you're feeling unsafe, then we can consider --"

"No!" he cut her off sharply, horrified by the direction of her thoughts. "No, I _don't_ want their protection or influence. I want _you_ to have the benefit of it."

“And you would be willing to put yourself under your family’s watch for that?” she asked. He couldn’t read the emotions he was seeing in her eyes as she looked at him intently, but he knew they were there. 

“Yes,” he said, because of course he would. He couldn’t think of anything he wouldn’t be willing to do to protect her; letting his family have more control over him was hardly even a sacrifice in comparison. 

Her jaw slackened slightly as she looked at him, as if she was surprised by the answer, or by some realization she had come to in her own mind. “Kai, I… I apologize for not articulating my gratitude for the offer earlier. I do appreciate it.” He got the feeling that she had actually wanted to say something else, based on the look on her face, but he wasn’t about to push. 

“Do not concern yourself about it,” he said, shaking his head. “My own privacy was the farthest thing from my mind when I made the offer. I feared that I would never see you again, Irene. The worry I felt when you were off on your own was unlike any I have ever experienced.” 

“I’m so sorry for the worry I caused you,” she said on a sigh. “But living with...with bodyguards, or under someone else’s protection, or whatever it would actually entail, is never going to be the solution.”

"I do understand that from a personal perspective," Kai admitted, feeling a bit more relaxed now that the conversation had shifted, though also more emotional, which _still_ was not supposed to be the purpose of this conversation. 

"Do you?" The question was gentle and he thought genuine, not accusatory. Irene took the now-empty glass out of his hand and poured generously again before giving it back to him and refilling her own. 

Kai chose not to comment on the fact that she’d already had more than usual, because gods knew this conversation felt unlike any they'd had thus far. Instead he took a long swallow from his own glass. "Well, yes. You may have noted that _I_ didn't insist on having bodyguards or moving house or anything else for myself after Venice. That wasn't out of respect for rules or politics, I just didn't want the intrusion on our --" He stumbled for a moment, barely avoided saying _relationship_ , which he strongly suspected would have upset her despite the fact that it didn't need to mean anything romantic or sexual. "Our lives."

"That’s true," she allowed, sipping her drink this time. So that at least was an improvement over downing the whole glass at once. She took a slow breath, then sighed. "You said you wanted to talk, before I -- left. Was it your uncle’s offer you wanted to discuss or something more?"

“It was that in part,” he said. He copied her slow breath; he wished he was able to go up to his room to meditate properly for a while before this conversation, but it was far too late for that now. Perhaps afterwards. “But it was more generally about you not putting yourself in danger on your own, when you have people who are able and willing -- no, _wanting_ \-- to help you. I understand that you cannot accept official protection from Li Ming, I truly do. But please, at least promise me that you will not go off on dangerous missions on your own.”

He could see her hesitation written all over her face before she even spoke. “I don’t know if that’s a promise I can make. There are some things, some jobs, that may require me to act on my own.” 

“Irene,” he said, closing his eyes against the desperate urge to beg her to be safe. The scale pattern that emerged with strong emotions was similarly begging to be released, and he fought it back with difficulty. It took several more deep, steadying breaths before he was able to open his eyes again. “Please. Do you know how painful it is to watch you go off on a suicide mission with no help? To wonder the entire time whether I’m ever going to see you again? To fear that, even as I try to find you, I’ll be too late to help?” 

"Yes," Irene said firmly, surprising him a bit. "Yes, actually, I _do_."

Kai stared at her, taken aback. He had expected that blow to land, had thought that she’d be shocked. He’d even felt that he was being a bit cruel about it, though he also thought it was the only real way of getting through to her right now. He hadn't thought she would simply agree so easily, and actually wondered whether it was an act or manipulation. It wasn't unlike Irene to use those tactics when she felt the need to be strategic in getting her way. Even with him. And she _was_ still his superior, after all. "You...do?"

"How do you think I felt when you were kidnapped?" she asked, and the truth of it -- the pain of it -- was clear on her face. "You think I didn't feel helpless? Didn't worry that you were already dead or would be by the time I'd found you?"

"That wasn't the same!" he snapped, scale patterns flaring on his cheeks as his composure momentarily shattered. He forced himself to take a deep breath, though his heart was still pounding. "I didn't go off on my own on purpose."

She considered, then shrugged. "I have to go off on my own sometimes, Kai. I have to risk my life. That's the job. I've always known it."

“But you _don’t_ have to do it on your own!” he said. He clenched his hands into fists to stop his claws from emerging. This lack of control over his emotions was unacceptable. He really needed to meditate later. “That’s the point, Irene,” he said, slightly calmer. “You have me, you have Vale. You have people to help you and yet you insist on doing things on your own anyway.”

“You are my student,” she said fiercely. “I have to protect you. I’ve failed at that enough already.”

“I _am_ your student,” he said with just as much fire, “because I signed up for this job too! I _also_ know that this job may involve risking my life. If you can do that willingly, then so can I! And I think it has been proven multiple times that we are safer together.”

He watched as she struggled internally with that, probably trying to figure out a way to argue with it. Her mouth twisted and her nose scrunched up slightly; he wondered if she realized she did that when she was feeling particularly stubborn. 

Finally, her shoulders slumped as she apparently gave up on the mental hunt for an argument. “I suppose you did also sign up for this. But, as you are my student, it is still my duty to protect you.” 

“Am I not also your friend?” he asked, knowing that was a bit of an unfair question; but he was learning from the best. 

"Of course you are my friend," she said firmly, which was equal parts gratifying and reassuring, as it was every time she said it. She’d proven it at every turn, but the words still held great weight, as all words did. The determined set of her jaw told him that he hadn't yet won, though. "But it is also my duty to protect you as my friend, is it not?"

He considered that as if he was staring down a trap -- because he knew that was exactly what he _was_ doing. "Yes, I suppose so. But as you are _also_ my friend, Irene, it only stands to reason that I should protect you as well."

"Perhaps that's true," Irene allowed. She didn't look as though she was making a concession, though. She looked like she’d just scored a point or won a victory. "However, I believe that first and foremost, we have established that I am both your elder and your superior, have we not?"

He wanted to deny it more than anything else. He wanted to insist that as a dragon to her more fragile human life, he ought to be the one protecting her at all times. He wanted to insist upon that, because he simply could not imagine the agony of truly losing her. But he couldn't. Duty and propriety forbade it. He gritted his teeth. "Yes. We have."

“So that makes it more my duty than yours to protect you,” she said, not even phrasing it as a question this time. She didn’t sound or look smug, though; her tone was almost resigned to that reality.

“Even with that as the case,” he said, carefully measuring his words to be respectful even as he wanted nothing more than to argue, “is it not _easier_ for you to protect me if you are _with_ me?” 

He watched her face as the words landed and felt a stab of guilt as he realized she must be thinking about his kidnapping. He could hardly blame her, as he had trouble not thinking about it himself, and they had just talked about it not a minute earlier, but in this case he hadn’t actually meant to reference it. 

“That is not to say it’s your fault if something happens to me,” he added quickly, though it had no effect on the badly-concealed guilt in her own eyes. “Merely that we are safer together than we are apart.” 

“I see your point,” she said quietly. “But I do not want to make promises I can’t keep.”

“So keep them,” he implored, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. 

She sighed, and was still holding herself tensely. He wondered if he’d managed to reverse all the progress he’d made on relaxing her muscles. “Okay. If it is in my power to do so, I promise that I won’t take on solo missions. But if the Library needs me to, I cannot disobey.”

Kai considered this. Once again he felt the irrational tug of jealousy, of the desire for her loyalty to be as much to _him_ as to the Library. Perhaps even moreso, because he certainly cared about _her_ much more deeply than simple respect for her professional status. He liked to think -- no, he _knew_ \-- that she felt the same way about him, though perhaps in lesser proportion. Then again...had he enjoyed a more respected status within his own family, might his priorities be different too? He hoped not, but he couldn’t be sure enough to truly resent her. A position deserving of his father’s respect was all he’d wanted for the majority of his life, after all.

“All right,” he breathed at last. “Thank you.” 

He couldn’t help thinking again of what it had been like to watch her go off with Zayanna, to enter Alberich’s library from the gap between worlds only to find it engulfed in fire. He’d had several terrible moments of certainty that she’d been killed in the inferno, it had seemed so all-consuming. He’d been having plenty of awful dreams about it; it was no wonder she was as well.

Abruptly, he realized that had been the entire point of his waiting out here in the first place. “Irene. You’re supposed to be telling me about your nightmares, not reassuring _me_. I apologize.”

“Not a problem,” she said easily, but he didn’t miss the hint of smugness in her eyes.

Kai blinked. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? To avoid talking.”

“Not...exactly.” She met his gaze, and he saw that she was being honest now. “I wouldn’t be that manipulative, Kai. Not with you, in any case. Though I did take the opening and run with it.”

He sighed, though he couldn’t deny the warmth he felt at her admission that he was above such manipulation. He reached out and rested a hand on her wrist. “All right. Tell me _now_ , then.”

She was quiet for a beat before she nodded. “I suppose I have consumed an adequate quantity of brandy.”


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place at the end of 4, between Irene getting shot and getting back to B395

Kai's hand was deceptively steady as he unlocked the front door to their lodgings. Their former lodgings… Well, _his_ former lodgings, he supposed. Irene was still going to live here, assuming she was well enough to… 

He shook his head as he closed the door behind him, gripping the key hard enough that the rough ridges dug into his palm. Ah, there was the tremble in his hand; he’d almost been waiting for it. It had taken a tremendous effort to keep his emotions in check while he’d been in front of others, particularly other _dragons_. It seemed that now that he was alone, the storm roiling inside of him was going to try to come out. 

Unacceptable. He had a task to do. He needed to get his things cleared out of here. If he didn’t keep up the appearance of not caring, of separating himself from the Library, then all of this would have been for nothing. He would have left Irene alone for no reason, traveled back here alone while she was in surgery for _no reason_. 

He took a steadying breath and looked around the front hall, as if he’d expected something to change purely because he’d made the decision to leave. Nothing had, of course. The walls, the furniture, everything remained frustratingly stagnant even as it felt like his entire world had been flipped onto its head. 

And, really, wasn't that _exactly_ what had happened? 

His world had been -- No, that wasn’t quite right. Wasn’t quite _fair_ , if he was being honest. And right now, he deserved nothing more than brutal honesty, no matter how much it hurt. _Especially if and when it hurt a great deal. So: He had _turned__ his own world upside down because he’d failed in every other way, had endangered Irene time and again -- Hells, had even allowed her to be harmed.

He’d told her that she worried too much, had assured her that the mission wouldn’t end in disaster. Wouldn’t come between them -- At least he’d implied that part. (His thoughts were careening wildly from one to the next, and he couldn’t ignore the thought that Irene would find the grammar of them absolutely atrocious. Surely she _would_ care about the grammar of one’s internal thoughts, just as he cared about their poetic imagery.) 

Refocusing again: Regardless of anything he’d said explicitly or not, he’d had a duty to Irene, which included protecting her both physically and emotionally. He’d failed in both, and now he had no choice but to remove himself from the picture to avoid further harm, no matter how much it might pain them both. He knew without question that Irene’s primary loyalty and dedication was to the Library. She’d said as much on innumerable occasions. No matter what he might want in fantasy, he _could not_ risk being the reason she lost that connection.

He would flip his world upside down so she didn’t have to. 

That thought propelled him enough to get his feet moving again, all the way up the stairs to the attic. There, he grabbed the trunks he had used back when they first moved into these lodgings, what seemed like so long ago, but was really only a matter of months. He had grown so used to Irene’s presence, to the life they had here, that it was almost difficult to remember what his life had been like before. Life after her looked...bleak and pointless. 

He moved on autopilot back down the stairs and into their shared study; he’d had no plan to start there, but it seemed that his feet had decided for him. Even so, he only made it a few steps into the threshold before he paused, suddenly feeling lost again. 

It felt wrong to be in here without Irene, knowing she was off in another world, being _operated_ on at this very moment… Or perhaps she had finished by now. Dragon medicine was far superior to that of humans. He should be grateful that she was in good hands. He _was_ grateful, despite the fear that was clawing at him from the inside out, despite his desire to be there with her. The knowledge that he would have been no help -- would have, in fact, been a hindrance -- was the only thing keeping him away; indeed, it was the only thing that allowed him to leave in the first place. 

Irene had worried constantly that his family or his status -- no, not status, he didn't have one of those really -- She had worried that his very _nature_ would come between them. He should have known to trust her judgment in this, as in all things. She was, after all, generally correct. And it wasn't as though he hadn't had his own fears about being ordered away from this life as a whole -- but especially from Irene, of course. The only difference was that _his_ fears hadn't been about actually _leaving,_ but rather the repercussions of defying his elders in refusing to do so. 

Strange, now, to find himself doing the opposite, though probably it shouldn’t have been. Probably he should have expected to fail, knowing his insignificance in comparison to most other dragons and his own propensity for being overly confident. 

Sighing, he forced himself to set one of the trunks in front of his desk -- what used to be his desk, or at least what would be his former desk once he managed to leave these premises for the final time. After casting around for another moment, he forced himself to start with the bookshelf. That would be faster than the piles of correspondence and other papers on and in his desk. 

The bookshelf was full, of course. Most of the books were Irene’s, but he had some interspersed with hers. They were not separated by ownership, as he might have expected before cohabitating, but rather by a very particular system that Irene had for organizing them, which he appreciated, and also found rather endearing. 

His were easy to find both because of the system and because they were easy to tell apart from hers, as his were mostly poetry and non-fiction. He’d only managed to get a few into his trunk, though, when he found himself trailing his fingers along the spine of a well-worn detective novel. It was one of Irene’s favorites, at least judging by the number of times he’d seen her reread it. He’d read it once so he could talk about it with her. 

“Stop it,” he whispered to himself, snatching his hand away and curling it into a fist at his side. Getting lost in memories was not what he was here to do. 

He put the rest of his books in the trunk quickly, showing them far less care than they deserved, but he just needed to get this finished. It wasn’t long before he was holding the last of his books in his hand, examining it. Irene had expressed interest in reading it not that long ago. It was one of his favorite books of poetry, worn and loved as her detective novel was. He didn’t hesitate before putting it back on the shelf so that she could read it one day, if she still wished to. It would only make him think of her now, anyway. 

For a moment he pictured her finding it on this shelf. Would she think about how she had wanted to read it and look for it right away? Or would she forget -- more likely, perhaps, given the probable upheaval in her life -- only to find it...some indeterminate period down the line? If that were the case, what would she feel? Pleased by the reminder of their time together? By the fact that he’d left it for her? Would she grieve the fact that he was no longer there? Or would she be angry in thinking of his memory? He couldn't exactly blame her if she was -- He had failed her spectacularly and then left her seriously, perhaps even mortally, wounded and in essentially enemy territory. 

Perhaps she wouldn't even like the poems in this volume. It wasn't as though she shared his love of the form, though she had always respected his taste for it and --

And he was wasting time again, having completed only the smallest fraction of the packing he needed to do. It was just that he was having such a difficult time focusing when ordinarily he was quite able to follow any objective to his goal. He blamed the strangeness of thinking about Irene -- about their life together -- in the past tense. 

If he delayed long enough, perhaps he would still be here when she got back. Then he would get to see her again, get to make sure she was all right with his own eyes, and then… And then he would absolutely never be able to leave. He’d compromise her position here, her life, perhaps even the Library’s neutrality by staying, and she would never thank him for that. He couldn’t do that...no matter how tempting it was. 

Finished with the books, he moved onto his soon-to-be-former desk and began packing up all of his belongings from there as well. He wasn’t quite throwing them into his trunk, but he certainly wasn’t showing them the care he normally would; he had no care left to give right now. Tunnel vision was necessary to getting this done because he couldn’t look at Irene’s desk, at her belongings, at how close their desks were, the evidence of how their lives were intertwined -- 

His fingers paused suddenly, feeling the weight of an unfamiliar pen beneath them. This was Irene’s pen, not his. It must have migrated to his desk, which wasn’t difficult or uncommon, considering their desks faced each other, hardly more than a human-sized gap between them. 

The pen remained in his hand for far longer than was necessary before he determinedly walked around his desk to place it back on hers, arranging it with infinitely more care than he was showing any of his own possessions. 

Getting back to his desk, he picked up a pile of correspondence and froze. He would have known Irene’s handwriting anywhere at that point -- It was plain, by dragon standards. Perhaps even a bit messy at times, when more of her concentration was going into the thoughts she was recording than the execution of penmanship. But it was eminently functional and it was _hers_ , a fact which would have made him love it even if it were the ugliest chicken scratch he’d ever seen. 

Letting the rest of the pile fall back into a scattered heap on the surface of the desk, he picked up the page in question and read it over three times, sinking into his chair. It was the note he’d found when he’d last come back to these lodgings, telling him that she was out on a routine book exchange and to please not worry. He _had_ worried, of course, about the fact that she was on an assignment alone, after all of the times he’d resolved to protect her. That worry seemed foolish now, knowing what had come after -- how much danger she’d been in because of _his_ kind and how utterly he’d failed in keeping her safe. 

But now he couldn’t help thinking back to _that_ morning, before everything had gone to hell. When it had seemed the biggest risk he’d taken was leaving his family’s celebration early, overwhelmed by feelings of loneliness and inadequacy. All he’d wanted was to be back in the company of those who valued him and...well, now here he was, preparing to leave them for good.

His vision blurred as he attempted to read the note a fourth time and he swiped furiously at his eyes, as if that would do anything to prevent the continued flow of tears. This was ridiculous, it was unbecoming of a royal dragon, it was...it was inevitable, really, he thought as he clutched the note so tightly in his hands that anyone else might have torn it or crumpled it up, were they not showing it the care he was. It was as if, by keeping this note safe and in his hands, he thought he could prevent _some_ piece of his life from shattering so completely around him as the rest of it had. 

So quickly, in one moment, he had lost so much: he was no longer an apprentice at the Library, he no longer lived here with Irene, he had to pretend to be utterly unattached to her even after she was _shot_ by one of his own kind. He had failed so completely and this punishment was more than deserved, but it still _hurt_ like nothing else in his life ever had. 

He had never loved and lost before; it felt far worse than books made it seem. If only he could share that revelation with Irene. Not that he would want her to see him like this. If _anyone_ could see him as he was now -- weak, vulnerable, struggling to hold back sobs as he clutched at a piece of paper -- he didn’t think he could survive the shame. 

That was the worst part of it, he realized -- even now, with this pain that felt as though it ought to be so utterly private -- what he wanted most was to share this with Irene. Not just his realization about the strength of his emotions, or the strength of those same emotions _for her_. He also wanted her advice here, her direction on how to handle this, her--

Her comfort. 

That was what it came down to. He wanted her to be here, holding him, finding a way to do the impossible, to make this turn out all right. The last person who'd done anything close had been his mother, and he’d been scarcely more than a toddler, feeling as though his world was ending because it was time for him to be sent to his father's court. He had felt similarly lost then, he realized, except that he’d also been a child, had still had others to direct him and make decisions for him. It had been...all right, after all. His childhood hadn't been bad, or at least not in the ways it had seemed it would be then. 

Looking down again, he realized that a few of his tears had fallen onto the note, blurring a couple of the words. 

With trembling hands, he carefully folded the note and put it in his coat pocket so he couldn’t damage it any further. It took him two tries to do so successfully, which was unusual for him, but his hands were shaking too badly for him to have his usual coordination. Perhaps that was his body’s way of chastising him for being so absurd, for keeping such a token, but he wanted _something_ tangible from Irene. 

Paper safely stowed, he had the thought that he ought to get back to packing, but he found his vision was currently too blurred to be able to accomplish much of anything. In fact, it was getting difficult to breathe now, with how hard he was working to hold back the tears and the noises that seemed desperate to tear themselves from his chest. He clenched his hands into fists to help the effort, and was surprised at the accompanying pain when his claws dug into his palms. 

He looked down at his still-shaking hands, and had to let the tears fall in order to see the scale pattern that had bloomed across his skin, and to confirm that his fingernails had indeed extended into claws without his permission. Continuing its betrayal, his body’s already fraying control over his emotions suddenly snapped, and he found that he couldn’t keep the sobs that had built up in his chest contained any longer. 

He'd managed to stand without consciously realizing it, either in putting the note into his pocket or with the thought of packing. Now he felt disoriented, dizzy, the sounds he was making foreign to his own ears. Had he been thinking rationally, it would have been easy to sit back in the chair he'd just vacated, to let it support him. All reason had left him, though, and instead he sank down to the floor, the wood edge of the desk digging into his back as he leaned against it. He pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, like he had to physically hold himself together. It _felt_ that way too, except...except what it actually felt like was that he was failing to do so. 

A sob tore its way from his throat, and he pressed his face into his knees, trying to muffle it. There was another right behind it though, and more after that, each rougher than the last. It _hurt_ and not just from the shame of such an undignified act, or from the fact that it felt as though the entire world would be able to hear. It physically hurt, as though his body wanted to inflict pain as punishment for his many failures. Perhaps it did, and that was fitting. 

As much as it hurt, he would take it over the inner turmoil...if only they could be traded like that. There was almost nothing he wouldn’t give right now to not be feeling this pain, to not have to leave everything he had come to hold so dear; to leave Irene, to leave Vale, who wasn’t even a _part_ of this, really -- 

His next sob caught in his throat, that thought giving him pause, so much so that he was able to lift his head and stop crying for a moment. The tears came rushing back almost immediately, but the sobbing itself calmed down, as if it knew that his brain had suddenly come to an important revelation: Vale wasn’t involved in this, at least not technically. He wasn’t part of the Library. Being associated with Vale would have nothing to do with being associated with the Library. It wasn’t as though there was any rule that prevented dragons from having friends in different alternates, and from visiting those friends… Perhaps even _staying_ with those friends? And if he should happen to see certain other people while staying with that friend, well, then, was there really anything wrong with that? It wasn’t as though he would be able to avoid seeing one of his friend’s friends if they happened to come to visit as well, would he? Irene was Vale’s friend, too. 

For a moment it felt entirely too good to be true. He’d spent the past several -- well, he didn't even know how long, especially considering that the journey between worlds was always disorienting. And the fact that he hadn't slept in several days certainly wasn't helping either. In any case, he'd spent the entire span of time since his resignation alternately worrying about Irene and despairing over the certainty, the conviction that he _had_ to leave her and this alternate entirely. That there was no way to keep her or Vale in his life whatsoever, short of selfish actions that would certainly harm them. A part of his mind still wanted to insist that that must be true, that he must be missing some catch or trap. That same part of him wanted to ask Irene for her advice, wanted her guidance on what to do. 

In the next breath, he realized that wasn't impossible. He _could_ have Irene’s judgment, because of course the decision would be partly hers as well. He could go and stay with Vale -- assuming that Vale would have him. But whether or not Irene continued any sort of relationship with him was ultimately up to her. He wanted to believe that _she_ wanted that as badly as he did, but after the way things had gone…

He had to find out, though. At least if she didn’t want him to stay, didn’t want _him_ , she would be able to tell him. It would be a lot easier to leave if he knew that was what she wanted, if he didn’t have to wonder how much he was hurting her, whether she thought of him, whether she missed him as he missed her. And if she _didn’t_ want him to go; if she wanted him to stay; if he got to keep these good things he’d gained after all… 

Tears were still streaming from his eyes but he could almost smile at the hope this had given him, like the sudden appearance of a pond in a barren desert. He wasn’t certain yet whether it was a mirage or if it was real, but it gave him something to aim for. 

He got up off of the floor in one quick movement and immediately began packing again with far more speed and energy than he’d had the entire time thus far. There remained the chance that this could go wrong and all of his hopes would be dashed, as it seemed impossible for it to all work out just right... But Irene had a way of making seemingly impossible things happen all the time. Perhaps he could too, just this once.

* * *

The last time he’d felt this anxious standing on Vale’s stoop was...well, the first time he’d ever been there. He’d had Irene with him then -- unconscious in his arms, in fact, and if he’d had any ill-advised fantasies about sweeping her off her feet the night before (he most certainly had, though he’d never admit it), that _definitely_ wasn’t the way he’d wanted to do it. Alberich’s chaos trap had rattled him to his core: just as he’d been coming to rely on Irene, to view her as perfectly steady and reliable, she’d been incapacitated and bleeding. He’d brought her to Vale’s on pure instinct alone, far too panicked to reason through any sort of decisions and too doubtful of his own judgment besides. He’d longed for her advice then too, though he hadn’t felt quite so...lost. 

Even being with her when she’d been injured and in shock had been less disconcerting than this. At least he’d known how she was doing then. At least he’d been able to get help for her. 

Waiting for a response from inside of the house, he found his mind wandering for a moment, fantasizing about what would have happened if she _had_ been with him now. If instead of keeping up the feigned unattachment, he’d swept her up then, changed form, and rushed for the space between worlds…

She probably would have died, of course. He knew that. And yet.

When the door swung open in front of him, he was met with a raised eyebrow from Vale as he took in Kai’s appearance on his doorstep, and the luggage at his feet. 

“So,” he said, not sounding all that surprised, “I surmise that you no longer work for the Library?” 

Kai, who thought that he would have to go through a long, painful explanation, sighed with a mixture of relief and sadness at hearing it said aloud by someone else. “You are correct. I need a place to stay. I can, of course, find somewhere else if--”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Strongrock,” Vale said, opening the door wider and stepping to the side to make room for him. “Come in, and tell me what happened to Winters.” 

“Thank you,” Kai said with gratitude that emanated from deep within. He picked up his luggage and carried it inside, relieved that this part of his idea, at least, had not been a mirage.


End file.
